What Rachel Knows
by Readwitch
Summary: Rachel Berry is a little bit psychic.  So it is no wonder that she knows why Quinn Fabray has been obsessed with her since the seventh grade.  Then again, Quinn was never the greatest at subtlety.  -How things got to where they are now.
1. Chapter 1

What Rachel Knows

Rachel can feel it. No, not an urge to leap out of her chair and burst into song and dance. That's a constant. What she can feel is the burning sensation of eyes staring her down. She sighs, shifting slightly in her seat. She's not really bothered by it, used to it really, but it does make listening to Mr. Shuester ramble about togetherness a little harder than normal. Her eyes narrowed a little as he shifted into talking about animals for whatever reason and wrote his word of the week (Pack – like of wolves) on the dry erase board. As Brittany raised her hand (apparently she had once been raised by wolves for a summer), Rachel thought about the first time she had realized Quinn had a slight staring problem – and when she realized what it meant.

There school district was broken down into four distinct sections, Elementary, Middle, Intermediate (or Jr. High), and High School. There were a number of smaller Elementary Schools that became Middle School, but when the children entered seventh grade, they pooled most of the schools together for Jr. High to High School. So it was during this transition that Rachel Berry (only eleven at time and younger than most of her classmates) first met Quinn Fabray. It was funny because, in her old school, she hadn't been the unpopular, social misfit she is now. That is not to say she was popular, not by a long shot, but she had also never had a Slushee thrown in her face. She wasn't invited to very many birthday parties, but she got the classroom wide invitations. She had people to sit with at lunch, though they never really talked, and she was never picked last for gym class on principle. Her dad's kept her busy with extracurricular activities – pageants and recitals that showed their parents just how normal and spectacular a child raised by two dads could be- and she was comfortable in the neutral familiarity she shared with her classmates.

She's pretty sure Quinn is the primary reason this changed. From what Rachel understood, Quinn was indeed the Queen Bee in her middle school, capitalizing on her older sister's and mother's knowledge to help her rule with an iron fist. It was with this knowledge that helped her find and convert Santana and Brittany, almost immediately, to form the unholy trinity.

It was a little confusing, honestly. Santana and Brittany had gone to Rachel's school (Brittany even lived right down the road from her) and the two had been best friends since preschool. She knew how their popularity worked. Brittany charmed people –being nice, funny, and a little dim- and Santana did the heavy lifting – made the right people cry. Santana was ruthless enough to get what she wanted, while Brittany was nice enough to smooth out the rugh edges left behind. Apparently, Quinn did this double effect on her own – brutal and manipulative, but charming. She knew when to be nice and sweet and who it should be to. Rachel to this day, especially with how their friendship is breaking down, has no idea how they settled on friends instead of enemies, but figures that it played into her own downfall. After all, being friends instead of enemies with Santana gave her an edge and an ally, but it also meant she could never relax.

It is funny in its own way, Rachel figures, that she has always partially blamed Santana for the way Quinn treats her, since they spent six grades and kindergarten interacting peacefully. Santana might have given her the odd sneer or insult when they were forced to interact, but it had always been fleeting and impersonal. And her and Brittany had shared a dance class – though they had never been partners due to the size difference –that Santana had eventually and half-heartedly joined. But Rachel definitely wasn't a threat and there really were girls and boys more deserving of her ridicule –such as the poor girl with external braces that Santana apparently made cry everyday for a month or Johnny Steps who accidentally tripped Brittany and sprained her leg and was then never seen from again. But when Quinn started noticing her, so did Santana.

It happened slowly, though. It started, or at least Rachel noticed it first, in gym class. They were playing tennis on the courts and Rachel and her partner were one of the groups playing. Since they only had a couple of courts, only 16 of them could play at a time, leaving quite a few of the co-ed gym class watching. It was the first time Rachel felt the sensation of a particular intense gaze. She isn't sure if it is her extensive background with the eyes of the audience on her or her sixth sense, but Rachel knows without a doubt and without turning her eyes that someone is watching.

She smiled a little as she jumped and hopped around. In the sake of complete honesty, which Rachel tried to live by, she loved that feeling of being watched. Whether cameras or a live spectator, the idea of having an audience made her glow and helped fuel her dreams of Broadway.

She was a little tired at the time. Most of the other girls and boys were putting in minimal effort. The girls didn't want to put in the effort for a sport and the boys thought tennis was "fruity," but Rachel Berry always put in 100% effort. This amount of effort, though, especially against the competitive Santana, did lead to a less than lady-like appearance. She was sweating hard and breathing deeply when she first recognized that prickle that meant someone was watching her. She didn't know who it was, but figured it was one of her hormonal boy classmates. She wanted to look around, but had to keep her head in the game because her partner was useless and Santana kept aiming the ball at her head and she wanted to win (100% remember) so she tried to ignore it. As it continued, though, she decided to play it up a little, adding some flare to her game. Jacob Ben Israel wasn't in her class and she loved performing for an audience, so she figured there was no harm in hamming it up.

Of course, that flare, while she was sure it was visually appealing, didn't really help her tennis much and Santana did end up beating her. It was with a little pout that she watched Santana strut back to her friends, one of whom was gazing at her quite fiercely, mouth hanging open slightly. With Rachel's eyes now on her, Quinn jerked her own upwards to meet Rachel and it was the first moment they have eye contact.

Rachel smiled at her and waved, somewhat dorkily she will admit now, and Quinn's eyebrow twitched upward. She seemed to swallow a bit, but did give a weak smile and wave back – although her wave was really just raising her hand a little – before Santana caught her attention. Rachel smiled cheerfully and flounced off, missing the scowling Santana hissing something into Quinn's ear.

At this point, Rachel really doesn't know if Quinn is a friend or a fan, but decides to play it up best she can anyways. In the classes they share, Rachel makes sure to smile brightly and moderately show off her wide range of knowledge.

As the year continued, Rachel would often find herself the object of Quinn's gaze, often paired with a soft smile. Once, after she had a verbal altercation with her teacher due to an unfair and completely biased methodology that resulted in her not only being forced to partner and spend time with creepy Jacob, but also get a B+, a B+!, when he was too busy staring at her and trying to touch her hair to complete his part of the assignment, Quinn had almost laughed. While this might not seem like much, Rachel felt it was quite an achievement. For one thing, she is quite sure that Quinn was not laughing _at_ her, and, two, Quinn was remarkably closed off most of the time. In fact, this incident was one of the reasons she decided to actually try and interact with the older girl. Unfortunately, she tried to do it outside of one of their shared pre-honors classes, choosing gym class to create a nice parallelism to the first time (she thinks) they noticed each other.

It was slightly weird that they had never conversed considering how much of their time consisted of stares and small smiles. So that one gym class, bolstered by the memory of Quinn's near laugh, Rachel walked right up to Quinn. She wanted to stick her hand out for a proper handshake, but she was still sweaty from the day's work out and did not want to gross her out.

"Salutations, Quinn," she started, causing Quinn's head to jerk in her direction, breaking away from the conversation she had been having with Santana and Brittany. "Although are eyes have met across the room more than a couple times, which, by the way, is tried and true film trope that bodes well for our future, we have yet to be formally introduced so I have taken it upon myself to remedy this. I would like to extend my greetings and introduce myself. I am, as I am sure you are already aware, Rachel Barbra Berry, current star and future Broadway sensation and EGOT winner. Noticing your affectionate – nay, adoring gazing, I would like to take this opportunity to open a line of communication between the two of us" And of course she finished it with a bright, level three smile – showing some teeth, but no dimples and slight tilt of the head. Inside she was freaking out a bit.

She hadn't really planned that long ramble. While she did believe monologues had their place and in many cases, especially speeches and school work, quality should be valued over brevity, this was not what she planned to say. Her actual plan, which she had spent half of lunch scripting, consisted of Rachel walking elegantly by Quinn and just giving a quick hello and walking away. If only she had been on a stage with thousands of eyes on her and the bright, hot spotlight highlighting her every move. Then she could have relaxed a little.

Quinn, though, hadn't reacted well to Rachel's ramble. Well, actually, it was more like she hadn't reacted at all. She hadn't even blinked, though her face has slowly flushed.

"…grk.."

At Quinn's less than stellar response, a somewhat worrying response to be honest, Rachel ignored Santana's "WTF face" and reached out to gently grab Quinn's shoulder. What if Quinn had been acting rebellious and illegally chewing gum during gym class and Rachel had startled her and now Quinn was choking to death right in front of her while she did nothing!

"Quinn! Are-are you okay? Do you need some water or the Heimlich Maneuver or maybe CPR," Rachel said slowly and enunciating a tab more than necessary as she leaned in close to Quinn. At either her words or her touch, Quinn jerked backwards, bumping into Brittany.

"Gack!"

Rachel reached out to help her, somehow, but Santana pushed her aside and grabbed her arm, pulling her away from the blondes.

"Listen her, Dwarf," she hissed, quiet enough that the teacher wasn't alerted, but loud enough that Quinn and Brittany could still hear from where they were seated, "you need to back off. Apparently, you have some sort of lezzy crush on her, but you need to leave Quinn alone. Obviously, she is having some sort of allergic reaction to the gay germs you and your two fathers let out, so you should probably try and wash it of in the showers. Lord knows you need one."

Rachel opened her mouth to retort but could only let out a squeak. Santana had teased her a little in the past, just the occasional biting comments, but nothing ever so personal and harsh. Everyone had known about her two gay dads, she had never hid that information. They had always wanted to let people know, making sure the public knew they weren't ashamed. She figured that was one of the reason they lived in this Podunk town when both her dads had to travel a little ways for work. Both of their families rejected them, and they always wanted to show that they still had a great life. They had their high paying jobs, a nice suburban house, a beautiful daughter who was not only in pageants and shows, but winning them against the other "normal" kids. Now that she was past that age, they were letting her do a lot more on her own. She was still in all her extracurricular classes because she honestly loved the activities and the spotlight, and they kept her out of the lonely house. But she maintained a perfect GPA and those activities, and she was reasonably well adjusted, for the most part. Santana had no right to bring up her dads as if they were a disease. Santana's dad and hers even worked together in the hospital. She just wanted to get the ACLU in here and have them tell Santana of like Daddy was always threatening to do.

Instead, she looked over Santana's shoulder at Quinn who, for once, wasn't looking at her and was, instead, staring at the ground. She gritted her teeth and about faced, rushing off into the girl's locker room. Despite their friendship, she knew the two girls had no problems snapping at each other, so if Quinn had wanted to say something, she would have. And for the first time in a while, Rachel ignored the feel of a stare on her back as she walked off. It wasn't quite the signature diva storm-out she would one day perfect, but she thinks it got her point across.

For the next couple of months, Quinn continues to watch Rachel during their classes and often in gym class as well, but Rachel stops meeting her eyes. Rachel doesn't mind if Quinn wants to watch her for whatever reason. At least she's not overly creepy about it, like Jacob. In fact, now that Rachel isn't actively reacting to Quinn's gaze, Rachel wonders if Quinn even realizes she's staring. Most people stare off into space and doodle during class – not Rachel Berry, of course, because note taking is important – but Quinn stares at Rachel and doodles. Still, while Rachel doesn't mind an admirer, especially one as well known and liked as Quinn, if she doesn't want to actually interact with Rachel then Rachel won't put in the extra effort that could be used in other, more productive endeavors.

She doesn't realize yet that Quinn doesn't react well to being ignored, but it is something she will soon learn.


	2. Sketchy Starts

Chapter Two – Sketchy Starts

Rachel, after their disastrous first face-to-face meeting, endeavored to put Quinn out of her mind. Not immediately and not quite effectively, but she was doing her best. While she still noticed a fair bit of Quinn's actions, she was fairly certain that no one, including Quinn, could tell and she figured that this was probably for the best.

When she had first noticed Quinn's interest in her, she had tried not to assume the exact nature of said interest. After all, everyone knows what happens when people assume. So, in an effort to cover all her bases, Rachel indulged in some low level espionage and some light background research – all in a decidedly un-creepy manner of course, she wasn't Jacob Ben Isreal. It's just that, aside from the various judges and audiences she had spent her childhood performing brilliantly in front of, most people did not pay that much attention to her, especially not attention that looked to be benign.

According to her completely not creepy and totally necessary research, Quinn really was the prototypical American dream girl. She appeared to inherit her knock-them-dead, good looks from her mother (Judy Fabray, housewife and mother in her low forties of a waspish nature who had been head cheerleader and prom queen in her youth), but was not a vapid, dumb blond in the slightest. Quinn seemed to be typical type-A personality (most likely due to a mix of nature and nurture from her dad, Russell Fabray, who was a pitcher in high school and remained an active member of the town) who got straight As and managed two Christian-themed extracurricular activities and participated in the Sue Sylvester watched and supported Junior Cheerios. Most people liked her well enough and certainly respected her, but many did warn about getting on her bad side because she might ruin your life.

Basically, she seemed relatable and understandable to Rachel (who might also be type-A personality who has no qualms about stepping on others to get what she wants), but also not someone who would put up with the singer. Rachel did not delude herself. While she might not be thrown in dumpsters, she didn't really have any friends and she knew it was because her mix of enthusiasm and ruthlessness made her decidedly difficult to like. The only people who seemed to not mind her were very easygoing people who generally found her amusing at best. Then again, most of the type-A people she met were her competition and, thus, "the enemy."

Yet, Quinn hadn't been glaring at her or sneering with disdain. It was never a set look really. Sometimes, Rachel thought it was curiosity. Other times, it seemed like her face was glowing with delight. Rachel's favorite was when it wasn't quite delight, but this soft expression with a small smile and bright eyes. A few times, though, it was this curious mix that Rachel couldn't adequately describe, which was annoying. It looked like Quinn was trying to keep hold of her mask, so it looked impassive for the most part, but her eyes tightened and her face seemed a bit stiff. It was intense, as if Quinn was trying to look through her or something, but also a bit frustrating because of Rachel's inability to properly read it. It made her feel weird, though.

But, after looking through all the gathered data on Quinn, she had still decided to greet Quinn. It wasn't due to the looks she gave or the early data, because that was all inconclusive to her cause, but when she looked a bit closer (not stalking!). Like how in History class – one of the few they didn't share – Quinn completed all the extra credit assignments even though she had a high A in the class. How she had stayed behind to talk to Mr. Franklin after Art one day – a class they did share – after they had discussed photography, and left ten minutes later with materials they hadn't been given in class. The fact that she had given Santana – her frienemy – the last cupcake during lunch when she had been staring at them the entire time she was in line. [Rachel would never know that Sue Sylvester had a secret weigh-in prepared for the Junior Cheerios that would go a long way to discovering a future line up, or that Quinn Fabray had used her own non-creepy espionage skills to discover this.]

Despite these factors that had been the primary reason for shifting their dynamic and going out of her way to extend a greeting, she had been shot down. Not so much by Quinn, but a verbal harassment by Santana – which probably meant worse things in her future – and silence from the girl in question was just as discouraging. So Rachel was committed to ignoring Quinn from this point forward. If her start is a little shaky, then that just means she has to put extra special effort into it. Because, despite what she interpreted before, Quinn might have been staring in disgust. Maybe that intense, indecipherable look just meant that she was barely holding herself back from violence. She didn't thinks so, but her skills at reading people were limited and one of the few things she did not have much faith in. Rachel will be the first to admit that she is sometimes confused in her social interactions.

While she could certainly be clever and was generally able to manipulate a situation to her advantage, it was usually by taking advantage of the rules and logistics of a situation. If she thought one of the judges in a competition would bring her down due to a self-righteous prejudice against, say, her two gay dads, she would find a loop-hole in his contract or examine his personal activities to disqualify him. She wouldn't make up lies or anything, just use the truth to her advantage. But she is hapless at emotionally manipulating people. She has found that, for whatever reason, people never really act the way she expects them too, and, once again, this had happened. She had honestly thought that Quinn would be dying to meet her and was maybe, secretly, a little shy…well, maybe not shy per say, but hidden and closed off to an extent that Rachel would have to make the first move in what she had assumed would be a loving and lifelong friendship. Since she was not just wrong, but humiliatingly wrong, it was best to just pull herself out of the situation and keep her eyes averted.

Unfortunately, this idea that she could just stop taking notice of Quinn and her stares was quite false. Maybe it was the intensity that they still held for the most part, maybe it was their continued frequency, or maybe it was just that, despite her disbelief, she really did want Quinn's interest to be a positive thing, but she still took notice of Quinn's actions in relationship to her. Now though, instead of meeting her eyes with a smile, Rachel observed subtly and acted ignorant. And that is how she noticed it one day.

It was art class and they were working with clay. Rachel actually had little interest in most traditional forms of art. While she could appreciate a gorgeous sculpture or painting and found some of the history behind it lovely, it definitely was not where her interest lay (which was, of course, on the stage and with the music). Nevertheless, there are many creative outlets and, during her reconnaissance, she had decided that Quinn's may lie somewhere in this room. Maybe not clay though, because Quinn was currently rolling her eyes at something a dopey looking boy was saying to her as she repeatedly smashed her mound of clay violently against the table. Mr. Franklin had not explained anything to them, just handing them precut rectangles of clay with the direction of "going wild" whatever that meant.

"It's an exercise in creativity and resourcefulness. I'll look over everyone's work and let you know what you did wrong and what you did right, but the most important thing is that you get a feel for the clay, so have at it," he said with a carefree grin and leaving them to their work as he sat at his desk. In Rachel's opinion, it was a lackluster effort on his part and a failure of the school system. If she was going to have to waste her time in this class futzing around with paints and clays and other such messy mediums instead being able to take another music class – or even a free period which she could spend further perfecting her various talents – then at the very least, Mr. Franklin should give them detailed and exact instructions on how to perform in the class. Nevertheless, the Rachel Berry method says 100%, therefore she would put 100% into this "going wild."

As she was "going wild" by creating a perfect replica of Elphaba's broom – the epitome of going wild really - (and it was _not _lopsided or misshapen!) she did notice that Quinn had once again let her eyes drift in Rachel's direction. The dopey boy she had been speaking to was currently engaged in what appeared to be a clay fight with another boy so she was free to work on her clay in piece. She appeared to just be playing with, though. She had apparently turned it into a sphere already and was mostly just running her fingers over it gently, occasionally adding water, but mostly staring with a far off look in her eye. She actually appeared to be daydreaming, so maybe it really wasn't about her this time.

To test her theory, Rachel dropped her clay broom on the floor and quickly dropped to pick it up, quickly rolling the piece back together. She decided to go with pot instead – not because her broom looked like snake that swallowed a rat as Noah Puckerman had implied a moment ago – and glanced over at Quinn who now appeared to be working very diligently on her clay sphere. It was all a little confusing, but Rachel put it to the back of her mind and got to work on her pot as there wasn't much time left and she had no idea was she was doing, which was a rarity she might add.

She did notice, though, when the teacher – though Rachel (privately) hesitates to call him as such until he starts to actually teach – goes around to look at what the students created. She is glaring at her indented blob when she hears him speak to Quinn, though it's hard to hear over the commotion of the other students anxious to leave. It is a good thing Quinn somehow ended up sitting one row over, so she can listen in without exposing herself.

"Wow, is this your first time working with clay?" he asks, holding her piece in his hands at an angle Rachel can't see.

"Yeah, I wasn't really, I mean, I don't know any techniques or anything. I was just…whatever the clay version of doodling is," she states, a little uncharacteristically flustered.

"No, it's really good, especially for your first time," he is quick to compliment, but Rachel is sure he actually means it. She really wishes she could see whatever it was Quinn made. "Is it supposed to be anyone in particular?"

"No! Umm, I mean, it's just… random. Just trying to get a feel for the clay if we're going to be working on it a lot," Quinn states, her features becoming stiff and cold.

"Oh, well, we won't be doing much with the clay, actually. We have a very limited supply and don't have the budget for any real equipment, so we just try to let you guys see if it's any interest for you to pursue further later. We even have to try to reuse the clay if you can believe that, so if you can add this to the pile at the front before you leave? But it is really good. Next week, though, we start on our section on drawing and what that leads to and that will take most of the time." He hands her piece back and goes to look at Noah Puckerman's clay representation of the female anatomy, but Rachel is unable to see what Quinn created before she smashes it into a ball and stomps out of the room, not without a quick glance at Rachel.

While Quinn had participated and, apparently showed talent with the clay, – though she had made fairly nondescript bowls the rest of the week – she hadn't truly shown much enthusiasm. When they began the section on drawing, far more prolonged than the rest of what they studied as it was the cheapest section, Quinn became much more engaged, although she hid it well. They began on the next Monday, once again starting the unit by "fooling around" to get a feel for it, which was somewhat ridiculous since it was drawing and, if you looked in the various notebooks and boy's bathroom stalls, the students in this room already had decent experience. Quinn kept a slightly bored expression on her face, but collected the cheap paper and began searching for "any object in the room that inspires you to put pencil to paper."

Rachel, seated just to Quinn's left across the aisle, turned slightly so that she was half-facing Quinn and scanned the room for an object. Before she found an object that sufficiently started her creative motor, though, she found herself watching as Noah turned around in seat to talk to Quinn.

"So, Sexy," he began, a lewd smirk that was unbefitting for a proper Jewish boy tugging at his lips, "how about you lie across this table and shed some of those layers so I can get properly inspired?" Of course Noah Puckerman, who had gone to the same Temple as her but much less consistently, would immediately start on the nearest "hot chick." They hadn't gone to the same school, Rachel didn't know if he had gone to Quinn's or not, but there was only one Temple in the community, so they had seen each other growing up.

They weren't friends by any stretch of the imagination, and Rachel was pretty sure that the Puckerman family only went to Temple as much as they did because it was so close to their house – a decent distance from Rachel's – but Rachel had seen him right after his dad had left the family. It was when they first started going to Temple for a while and Noah's mother had sent him off to be with the other kids, few as they were. During this time, his mother seemed like she didn't know what to do and was hoping to get some solace from the community she hadn't seen in a while, solace they were glad to give, but Noah just seemed broken. He was already using the Puck nickname, she knew because another kid that apparently lived close by called him that once, but his mother introduced him as Noah, and he didn't seem to care enough to correct them. Rachel tried to be kind and supportive in Temple, but Noah mostly shrugged it all off and generally seemed to start getting angrier. Eventually, they stopped showing up as much, coming inconsistently at best. But he was apparently just as rowdy and disrespectful, shoving kids in the hallway and talking back to teachers.

"I'm sure that my body inspires you, Puckerman, but it would take a lot of alcohol to get me to even hang out around you, much less strip. Besides, I'm pretty sure that's not what Franklin meant," Quinn practically snarled, a tone of voice that Rachel had yet to hear.

Noah turned to the teacher and waved him down, "Yo, teach, you said anything that gets are juices flowing, right? Even a person?"

Mr. Franklin gave a non-committal hand wave and focused on another student, the standard response for teachers at this school when dealing with Noah.

"So that's a yes from him, Babe. What do you say me and you get inspired together?" he continued, leaning close to Quinn with an admittedly seductive grin.

"Back off, turn around, and don't talk to me for the rest of the period. And if you want to move somewhere else altogether, I would love the chance to breathe without choking on the Axe you apparently drenched yourself in instead of taking a shower," Quinn snapped, before looking determined at her paper and beginning a sketch. Noah dropped the smirk and turned back around to his own paper, grumbling the entire time. If Rachel knew him at all, though – and she sorta did – Quinn's rejection would just incite him to go to greater lengths. He always seemed to want what he couldn't have, hence the reason he was constantly in trouble with people of authority.

Seeing everyone else working, Rachel stayed facing her half-tilting direction towards Quinn and Noah and began to sketch the back of Noah's head – Because This Class Was A Joke! She tried to ignore the occasional prickling as Quinn glanced at her every so often and set to making the perfect mohawk – from the back.

The rest of the class passed quickly and soon the students who had finished started to get antsy and talkative. Still Quinn stayed quiet and absorbed in her work all the way to the end of class when Mr. Franklin let them go, asking them to leave their pieces in a pile in the front of the classroom. Rachel hurried after Quinn who nonchalantly dropped hers in the pile and left the room without a backwards glance. Rachel looked down to see what the other girl had drawn and was puzzled at what she saw.

It was a very pretty drawing, full of detail, but Rachel highly doubted that Quinn had seen that item in the classroom. It was an old-fashioned carousel, magnificently done, with curtains on both sides framing it. She left the room confused and it wasn't until she made it to the bathroom and looked in the mirror that the puzzle pieces clicked. She stared at the mirror then glanced down at the carousel horse portrayed on her sweater with her dark hair flowing down on each side.

"Huh…"


	3. Notice Me Nicely

(Last chapter before Quinn starts getting mean...)

Notice Me Nicely

That moment when she first saw the picture was shocking. It wasn't just a quick sketch, there was effort in every pencil stroke and it took that look in the mirror for Rachel to put two and two together because what Quinn had drawn looked like a real carousel, not the stencilized version on her shirt. In the moment, thoughts had flown through Rachel's head with such alarming speed that she had immediately grabbed her notebook to get them jotted down. She didn't quite know what to make of this, but one idea stood out in her mind. An idea that she quickly shook her head to get rid of because it really was absurd.

Having two gay dads and watching their interactions growing up had painted their lifestyle as a norm in her mind, but usually her interactions with the often homophobic students at her school was enough to shake the notion from her. The town had always been quick to remind her that her life was not normal, but it had never really hit her until she had called Brittany and Santana a cute couple in middle school. It was an easy mistake as they did act more like they were dating then friends and Rachel had never interacted closely enough to know better. All she saw was two people constantly whispering to each other, locking pinkies as they walked down the hall, always _always_ touching, and the overwhelming dependency the two seemed to have with each other. The only thing missing had been the kissing, and Rachel had always figured it was because PDA was heavily discouraged in school, plus they were all pretty young still. Still, when Rachel saw Santana see Brittany off with a gentle kiss on the cheek, she thought it had been a great opportunity to make a new friend. It wasn't.

Santana had given her a great tongue-lashing and brought up her fathers for the first time. It was all perfectly ridiculous because it had been a compliment, and Rachel hadn't even said it in front of other people. Santana had always been a bit harsh with her after that but generally tried to avoid any interactions with the younger girl, possibly to prevent any future comments that would bring undue attention. Rachel just didn't see what the big deal was, but Santana wasn't fooling anyone – well, anyone with half a brain. Maybe they weren't dating or exclusive, but something was going on or else Santana wouldn't have made such a big deal, but Rachel didn't really care. It was their private life, their personal information, she had just been trying to be nice and give a compliment without prompting and without expecting one back – something her court-appointed therapist of the week had recommended. (Not that she needed one! She hadn't really been threatening the dance judge! He had misconstrued the situation…s, and the Judge clearly only believed him because she had been raised by two gay dads! What part of her looked like a hooligan! Whatever!)

Rachel understood that her mind went to the gay place a little faster than most people, that was the only possible reason most people thought Brittany and Santana were just best friends. So Rachel let this idea drift to the back of her mind, not completely forgetting it but refusing to let it fester or affect her actions. Still, even with this idea shrouded in the back of her mind, she did find her interest in Quinn shifting. Before she was actively trying to ignore Quinn, and she would continue this set of actions, but know she was curious and this curiosity might have affected her outlook. She noticed, for example, that Quinn had taken to carrying a very nice sketchbook around that she often seemed to distract herself with. Rachel could only make guesses about what it contained.

But Rachel tried ignore the guesses her mind cooked up and ignored the continued glances and just ignored Quinn in general. And she usually succeeded.

After a couple of weeks of this, and, to be honest, she was getting better at the ignore Quinn thing to the point where it had basically become second nature, things started to get a little rougher. She had been doing a phenomenal job at putting aside her curiosity in art class, setting aside the sweltering stares in gym class, and paying attention for academic reasons only in their shared pre-honors classes. But it seemed that Quinn was getting tired of this.

It should be made clear that her intent was never to hurt the other girl's feelings or anything like that, so she wouldn't go out of her way to ignore the girl when everyone else was paying attention, like when Quinn did a presentation during History class. She didn't want to make it seem like she was ignoring the other girl on purpose, though she was, but that she was just inattentive to her. To make this clearer, she didn't treat her like Jacob Ben Israel who she would jump into bathrooms to avoid –though this often led to him trying to peek inside – or Santana who she made it a point to avoid on all levels in the sake of self-preservations. More than anything, Rachel tried to treat Quinn as if she was any other nameless classmate. And, apparently, when one is the Princess of the school, this is completely noticeable in its own right. Or maybe it was just because it was Rachel doing the not noticing.

So while she appeared busy and focused on the outside, a part of her was keeping track of Quinn. It was this part that noticed Quinn's increasingly desperate attempts for attention. She still made no outward sign of her attention – if Quinn wanted a response then she could reach out like Rachel had done and actually risk something – but she noticed all the same.

She supposes it started in their Art class, though Quinn had been moving so gradually she cannot really be sure.

She assumes Quinn caught on to her repeated glances at her work – not her fault, after that first one, she figured it would be a great look into Quinn's mind – and was now being extra secretive, but obviously so. Quinn was not nearly the amazing actress that Rachel was, she could go cold and impassive – she was very good at her mask – but was not very good at faking emotions and was a horrendous liar. You would have to be an idiot to believe them. And while Quinn was trying to tempt her into making an obvious play for the book, Rachel figured that their wouldn't be anything Quinn wouldn't mind her seeing, and thus nothing interesting.

But her apparent lack of interest, made worse since it had apparently lessoned from curious to completely apathetic, seemed to make Quinn a little more desperate. The other day in English, Quinn, who always got A's on her papers and tests but rarely spoke up in class and never for very long, was the first to raise her hand. Not only did she actively continue participating in the class discussion, rather than using the initial participation to convince the teacher to leave her alone, but her remarks were thoughtful and clever. Rachel could barely hide a smile as she faced forward and tried to ignore the quick glances Quinn sent her way after each comment.

It continued through their math class and Rachel was even more impressed. Quinn's input may not have spawned class discussions or anything, but it was math. The fact that Quinn was able to clearly and correctly answer the questions was remarkable if only because they were starting a new chapter. Rachel didn't have a problem with math, per se, but she also didn't have an affinity towards it. She paid attention in class – as everyone should – and studied every night – as everyone should – and that was enough to get her through it. She never needed tutoring or even spending extra time on it, but she worried about the future when math gets more difficult than the square root of 4…which is two. But Quinn clearly had a strong grasp on the subject.

When attempts at getting her attention through the proof that she had a brain, and was therefore different than at least sixty percent of their school – and eighty percent of her social category – failed, Quinn switched to a drastically different manner of getting her attention.

It occurred in gym class, which was fitting considering this is where Rachel really first noticed the girl and where Rachel first offered her friendship. And was shot down.

And Quinn wasn't really making up for that. She still hadn't made any verbal contact and Quinn hadn't made any sign of sticking up for her with the teasing that seemed to be gradually, and inexplicably, worse. She had looked conflicted a couple of times, but the closest she had come was when she slammed the door into Jacob (who had now earned the unfortunate nickname of Jewfro with their peers) when he had followed her a little too closely through the halls to their classroom.

But Quinn was becoming more and more desperate for the mutual attention the two had shared before that particular gym class. Rachel wasn't sure if she was still upset with the girl or if she remained resolute out of any real need for Quinn to learn a lesson. Sure, she felt that she was worth a real friendship, but if Quinn was only comfortable with a long distance… acquaintanceship, then did Rachel have any right to demand more.

Especially considering how, even though she wasn't publicly displaying her desires, she clearly wanted Rachel's attention.

Quinn was always one of those girls who did not really participate much in gym class. It wasn't that she unable or anything, as far as Rachel could tell Quinn seemed quite athletic. But she always seemed to prefer the appearance of the regal queen, observing the people below running and getting sweaty. It was actually a little humorous in Rachel's appearance because many of Rachel's female compatriots wished to not participate in any class oriented exercise. But Quinn was the only girl that got away with it. Apparently it was some Sue Sylvester mandated order – any potential Cheerios of any worth should not participate in any activity not sanctioned by Sue Sylvester due to the risk of injury or molding the body in a way that makes it unusable. Even though none of the girls were officially eligible for Cheerios until ninth grade, Sue Sylvester still had a strong hold on the school. Rachel worried about that.

But among all the girls in the class, only Quinn, Brittany, and Santana really had this ability to use their potential Cheerios status to create unrest among the teachers. And while Rachel had seen Santana use this ability to get out of a history test – apparently the class book conflicted with Sylvester on many subjects – Quinn was the only one to use this to get out of gym class. Brittany just loved all the activities and games and dragged Santana, who was already somewhat willing due to her more than healthy competitive streak, along for the ride.

But today was different. When the teacher, a somewhat larger lady who spent most of the class period reading magazines in her office after giving orders, started assigning teams for soccer, she automatically skipped over Quinn.

On most days, this was exactly what Quinn wanted. But that day, Quinn immediately scoffed at the teacher.

"Excuse me," Quinn started, a sneer in her voice but trying to maintain an air of politeness, "you skipped over me."

"Oh," their teacher started, not very intelligently, "you want to participate?"

"Obviously," Quinn said, eyes rolling, "why wouldn't I?"

Their teacher did not mention the fact that Quinn had not actually participated in a single class session aside from the few focusing on straight running, and, instead, she quickly assigned her to a team. As Quinn joined the rest of her team, she shot a quick, triumphant grin in Rachel's direction. The teacher quickly moved on, assigning Santana and Brittany's team opposite Quinn's and putting Rachel on the third and final team that would play next. Rachel's sixth sense buzzed uncertainly, alerting her that Quinn's participation, while normally a good thing, might not be the best for today.

The students took to the field slowly, both Santana and Quinn grabbing the offensive position that was right in the middle, what their information sheet (easier than actually teaching the positions) called center forward. Rachel wandered to the sidelines with the rest of her team and settled in to watch the game. Normally, when her active or passive participation is unnecessary, Rachel likes to organize ways to establish and nurture her talent – last week she decided to start creating electronic copies of her practice performances that she may one day share with the world – but she figures she should watch the other team sense Quinn is acting somewhat strangely. And she's glad she did.

Right off the bat, it is quite clear that Quinn is trying to prove something and Rachel can't help but wonder if this is really about her or if Santana started something, because right away she is going after the Latina. Then again, Santana's the only real contender in the game.

Quinn is already one of the better athletes in the class, though she normally chooses not to show it, but she also inspires a certain amount of fear in the other girls as well, causing them to let her steal the soccer ball with little to no fight. Aside from Brittany who is currently chasing a butterfly, but goes after the ball when it's nearby, Santana is the only one who is not content with letting Quinn basically play soccer with herself.

The two begin a rousing game of two-man soccer, occasionally using the other girls to bounce the ball off of. Rachel doesn't typically follow soccer and the written instructions are a somewhat poor guide, – and Rachel suspects the girls are not following traditional rule anyway – she is easily wowed by the sheer athleticism the girls are displaying. Although she also worries about the how violent both of the girls are. But through-out it all, after every steal, goal, and tackle – though Rachel is almost positive people aren't supposed to tackle each other in soccer, Quinn shoots a look in Rachel's direction.

The looks are not her normal adoring gaze, but remind Rachel of the one time she got to meet her little cousin, Alexander. The boy had just begun walking and was still in amazement at his own ability. Every time he made it across the room without falling, he would look to his parents with that same expression.

_Are you watching? Did you see that? Did you like it?_

While Rachel is certainly appreciating the game and can easily say that the other girl's physique and skill is impressive, every time Quinn looks at her – wondering and hopeful just like her little cousin, Rachel keeps her gaze trained elsewhere in the game. She's not averting her gaze or making any gesture to indicate she was paying any attention. A part of her wants to see how far she can push this, but another is so confused with everything – half hopeful herself, but also worried at what is going on – she just wants to ignore it and wait it out.

Soon enough though, the teacher exits her office and switches teams so that it is Rachel's against Santana's (and Brittany's) and putting Quinn on the sideline. Unlike Quinn, Rachel is not trying to attract any attention – she performs on stage and in lights not a muddy field – and only plays with as much enthusiasm as needed. She puts her all into it and tries her best, but never really enjoys most sports.

She's decent enough at them. She's in excellent shape and is very coordinated, and, when the mood strikes, her competitive side can give her quite the fierce edge. But she's something about the unplanned savagery of sports has always turned her off a little. She has to think of her future after all, and one wrong tumble could ruin her chances at stardom.

Also, and this is a little embarrassing, the improvisational nature of sports have always been her biggest downfall, mostly working with and relying on other team members. It's weird. She knows what they'll be doing, but it never really clicks with her. In team sports, she always misjudges who wants the ball or who is passing, just the overall silent communication that most people find so easy. If she is going to exercise, she prefers it to be something simple and repetitive, like yoga or cardio-training. If it is a competitive sport, she prefers something not team-oriented, like tennis. And if she must work with other people, she wants it scripted and rehearsed, where she knows what she is supposed to be doing and what others are doing, like …cheerleading? Most team sports rely on how well teammates react to each other, and Rachel just had difficulty in this area.

With that in mind, it is no wonder that her soccer game did not go as well as the previous one. Nobody really wanted to go up against Santana, so they mostly just pretended to be playing against her while mostly staying out of her way. And maybe it would have been just fine if she had been in a field position where she could stay in the same spot and still give 100% while not really becoming a nuisance, but because of her difficulty working in groups that was becoming somewhat known, her teammates had stuffed her in the goal post.

Basically, she was the only thing coming between an enthusiastic Santana and a goal and she honestly couldn't bring herself to just fake an effort and give up the shot. So she spent the rest of the period trying her best to prevent a goal, over and over again since her teammates made absolutely no effort to help, and, even though Rachel only managed to block every third shot, it was obviously bugging the other girl.

It was so frustrating, and worrisome judging by Santana's increasingly deteriorating expression, that Rachel did not even notice any glances from Quinn the entire period, eyes glued to Santana. The teacher let this continue for most of the rest of the class, perhaps too absorbed in a game of minesweeper to keep track of the clock, before sending them on a quick cool down lap. Rachel could not cool down, however, as Santana, apparently still incensed from the game, spent the time shoving and tripping her up, much to the amusement of the rest of her immature (or frightened into obedience) classmates.

She quickly made her way into the locker room and began to change back into her clothes, but kept one eye on Santana in fear of what she might do next.

"Yo, Goal keep, I know I'm one hot chica, but you best be keeping your eyes to yourself before I go over there and make you," Santana taunted from the other side of the room.

Rachel blushed and turned away, averting her eyes for the first time. She didn't respond, hoping not to provoke the girl further. Truthfully, while Santana had a perfectly lovely physique, and of course it wouldn't matter what her gender was because Rachel had two gay dads, but Rachel honestly wasn't interested in anyone right now. She found the idea of a significant other sometime in the future attractive, but currently didn't yearn for it. Rachel had hypothesized to herself that either all the people in her grade that were currently hooking up were overly sexualized due to the media and how they think they should be behaving rather than their actual biological urges, or Rachel's age difference with most of her peers actually created a noticeable difference in attitudes and opinions. Even if her only suitor wasn't Jacob Ben Israel – who had been found looting through her trash again – she didn't see herself responding to any suitor invitations anyway. Still, she did not want people to think she was molesting Santana with her eyes or anything.

Which is why she did not see the other girl stalk up to her until she was pushed lightly against the wall.

"Listen here," Santana started, giving her only partially clothed body an overly obvious once over, "Treasure Trail," and Rachel's brow furrows, not knowing the terminology, but figuring it is insulting, "you just can't seem to find your place, so I'm gonna help put you there, okay."

Some part of her knows she should just stay quiet, avert her eyes and ignore the words spewing at her. But she can't. Her dads always told her to ignore the bullies, but keep her head high. They never told her to kill them with kindness, but told her that she's better than anyone who would pick on her and she should always remember that. When they make fun of her, she was told to look them in the eyes and make them face what they're doing. She doesn't think Santana cares, but, even as her body begs to flinch away, she holds eye contact and stands up straight.

It should, hypothetically, be easy. She is already used to the sneers and giggles of her classmates, she has two gay dads and no filter, but never has anyone confronted her like this _without any provocation. _ She's been snipped and even yelled at, but always there has been a reason, maybe not a very good one, but a reason none the less. All she did to Santana was play a soccer game, and with less enthusiasm than Quinn. At the thought, Rachel's head shifts to look at the other girl, not on purpose, but Santana's voice stops her in her tracks.

"Eyes up here, Treasure Trail. See, what you really need is a lesson in etiquette, and not that fancy shit your homo-dads probably taught you, but high school etiquette, or as I call it "lessons on how to be a normal human being" since you clearly need it. Or at least a intro since I'm not wasting any more time on you than I have to." Santana is inches away, words spat quietly but Rachel hears every one of them clearly and she suspects the rest of the locker room does too. They're probably enjoying this, not because it's Rachel, but because most people seem to like watching Santana lash out – as long as it isn't them.

"Rule one," Santana sneers, lifting up a solitary finger and mockingly tapping her forehead, "Keep your eyes to yourself at all times. I don't care about your reasons, but if I see you look in our direction again, my fists will make sure you won't be seeing anything at the very least."

Rachel swallows, not used to the threat of physical violence, though she does wonder if Santana has ever actually been in a fight. While Rachel has never been in an actual altercation, her dads have made sure she is capable of defending herself against predators – Lima has an astounding number of institutions that will teach that – but she doesn't relish the idea of testing her skills.

"Rule two, stay out of our way. If I'm sunbathing, you best not be making shade. If I'm walking the halls, you best be pressed against the wall. And if I'm shooting a soccer ball, you best not be blocking any goals."

Rachel's hand clenched as she stares down the other girl. Santana has maintained the eye contact the entire time and, frankly, Rachel wants to look away. Rachel would settle for just glancing down, but she really wants to crawl into her locker and die.

It isn't even the words, which are somewhat childish and nonsense, but the fact that everyone is watching as the taller girl looks down at her, fully dressed to her topless, and spews these insults. None of them are helping, in fact, most of them are snickering and smiling. Rachel gets that, to Santana, this is a performance, so she can understand the rush as the audience reacts just how you want them to, but this is one show that Rachel doesn't want to be a part of.

"Rule three, and that last bit of knowledge your brain will, no doubt, fail to take in…put a shirt on. Nobody, and I mean nobody, wants to see your flat chest. But seriously, good luck growing something there, because it doesn't look like anything's sprouting anytime soon," Santana finishes, sneer still in place.

Rachel holds her head high, holds back the tears, and continues staring at Santana even as the other girl walks off, locking pinkies with Brittany on the way out. Everyone follows her, but Rachel stays, gazing at the closed door that Santana left through. She hears the bell ring in the distance and shakes herself out of it, humming an inspirational song under her breath as she continues changing. By the time she has finished changing – taking the time to brush her hair and reapply light make-up because she is a _**Star**_ and nobody will break her – she is belting the words to the empty locker room. Taking a final, deep breath, Rachel Barbra Berry (gold star) prances out of the room with her head held high.

She didn't notice Quinn, who had stayed behind, hidden between a row of lockers. She didn't notice Quinn at all once Santana had got going. With a peculiar look on her face, Quinn followed after the singer.


	4. Changing Attitudes and Clothes

Chapter 4

After her disastrous gym class, Rachel had been trying to keep a low profile. She wasn't backing down, per se, because she didn't do anything wrong, but if Santana had decided that she didn't like Rachel, then Rachel figured it would be best to stay out of her way. Quinn, though, was staring at her again and, with Santana's words still in mind, Rachel was making it a point not to look back. Once again, it was just playing it safe. If Quinn wanted to speak to her or something, then of course Rachel would not let a few words from Santana Lopez get in the way of that, but as long as Quinn was just staring from a distance, it was best to keep her head down. No need to rock the boat.

However, this stare felt different. Rachel had experienced a number of looks from Quinn and none had felt like this. It was constant – a quiet hum following her through the halls and in the cafeteria - and, reluctantly, Rachel would have to say, more than anything else, that there was the feeling of plotting in the air.

It was in the hallway that Rachel first discovered a hint of what to come. It was a normal day, pushing through people who were all a little bigger than she was. Her short stature was a bit of a hindrance, but, Rachel reminded herself, she was one of the youngest members of this building and she had time to grow. While she was facing a few more snickers than normal since gym – word spreads fast in high school – nobody was being intentionally pushy, they just didn't notice her or were not polite enough to move around a smaller person. Typical.

She was walking along the edge of the crowd, close to the walls to avoid the worst of the shuffle, when she was shoved somewhat lightly against the wall. She heard a soft murmured apology and responded in kind, keeping her head down even if she did recognize the voice somewhat.

She continued to head to her next class when a much harder push sent her into a row of lockers and caused her books to fall to the floor.

"Watch it Treasure Trail," the familiar voice sneered, sparking her to lift her head in shock.

Quinn stood above her, smirking at the shocked stared, before abruptly turning and walking off. She had a distinct swagger in her step that Rachel continued to observe until she turned a corner.

The rest of the day was spent somewhat similarly. The mass of sheep at her school continued to snicker and sneer at her and now Quinn was joining in. Rachel was nervous, unsure of how to respond. She had faced bullies before, she had two gay dads after all, but as her incident with Santana had shown, it wasn't like she was adept at it or anything. For the most part, she tried to ignore, live and let live, roll with the punches. One day she would be on stage or at the Grammys, anywhere with lights, cameras, and a host calling her name. As she accepts the awards and accolades gifted to her, she will thank all of her old classmates for making her a better person by treated her like she was not one. Moreover, while they watch her on television from their Ohio houses, scraping by with their McDonalds salary, she'll be becoming the next Barbra Streisand.

Nevertheless, that philosophy was a lot harder to live than say, how did the expression go…she could talk the talk but not walk the walk. She tried to hold her head high and be resilient and persevere, but, things had been escalating lately and the Santana situation was both an example of this and something that Rachel presumed would make things even worse. Sometimes it was just hard to bear the snickers and the teasing and she just needed a quiet moment to collect herself. In some ways, it was a gift that the McKinley had such a disappointing drama curriculum. That it had an auditorium that the school only used for band concerts and practices and the occasional assembly worked in her favor, giving her a place to take solace that nobody else ever seemed to use.

Quinn joining in, though, made everything so much worse. Even steadfast in ignoring the other girl, secretly wanting a friend more than a fan, it had always been nice knowing there had been one person who could not keep their eyes off her. Now that was apparently over. She felt the need to find the underlying cause of this. Tomorrow. Today had been draining enough, she needed some time to get her head on straight and figure things out.

It was, finally, the last class of the day, History, and Rachel was barely able to pay attention to the not so riveting lecture being given by the teacher. She was busy thinking and rethinking her exit strategy, involving a hopefully quick stop at her locker before running to get to her bus just as the door opened. It was not that the bus was exactly a safe haven, but she had a very no-nonsense bus driver and most of the other bus-goers grew up around her and were at least mostly friendly.

Still, though her plan was ready and smart, she was getting more and more nervous as the class grew closer to ending. Mostly because this was one of the classes she shared with Quinn and the other girl was making her anxious. She had walked through the door with an open notebook and spent the entire class scribbling in it earnestly, a somewhat dastardly smile gracing her lips. At first, Rachel had thought it was just some left over work from study hall, which she was only somewhat sure the other girl had that seventh period, but it whatever caused her to smile like that was obviously sinister in nature.

Rachel did her best to ignore Quinn, wanting to focus on the somewhat lackluster lecture (there were not even any PowerPoints), but Quinn's scratching pen filled her with a sense of foreboding that didn't allow her to look away.

Though her focus was on the notebook, a complete disregard to their teacher, she would occasionally glance at Rachel and smirk at the somewhat unfortunately obvious attention.

St the end of class, Rachel quickly put away her things, though she waited to do this until the teacher was completely done unlike the rest of the ruffians in her class, and jumped out of her seat, ready for a quick, necessary run to her locker.

She left the room with one quick glance at the still sitting Quinn. The older girl was still sitting, everything put away except for that single notebook which she was glancing over with an anxious expression. With a frown, Rachel exited the room and made her way through the hallway, grunting as that dopey-looking boy from her art class lost control of his limbs and bumped into her, but eventually made it to her locker. She had just put away the rest of her unneeded material when her locker door was slammed shut, narrowly missing her fingers. She yelped, pulling her hand back and cradling it gingerly to her chest.

She glanced up to see Quinn looking at her hand with concern. As soon as their eyes meet, though, it is as if a switch flips and a hard cold smirking face is looking back at her.

"What's the rush,'' Quinn sneers, hesitating briefly, "RuPaul, late for the freak show.''

A part of her wants to laugh. Obviously, Quinn had been working on that for a while, all last period apparently, and even though there is the possibility that the comment was only the first of many, it is slightly hilarious if that was the best she could do.

Admittedly, RuPaul wasn't a horrible insult for the average teenage girl. Rachel had heavy respect for RuPaul as a performer, but she can admit that she is not someone most girls aspire to be compared to.

At the same time, she finds the comparison a little laughable. While she has yet to grow at all in the chest area, Rachel is quite sure it is because she is younger than her classmates and is convinced her bosom will grow with time. Her figure may be boyish now, but she is still pretty sure she will grow. She knows she does not contain the potential to be a classical beauty like Quinn or the fiery ethnic looks like Santana. Her hair is too dull and her nose is too big. While she may be drab in appearance, her voice will take the world by storm. Other than that, though, Rachel sees herself as a very girly girl.

She wears skirts and sweaters with animals and bows and wears her long hair down. She moisturizes daily and has manicures and pedicures. She does not wear make-up, but that is because she doesn't really know how and doesn't want to end up looking like a clown or worse, a hooker.

At least, she doesn't think she could be confused for a Drag Queen. Santana really only implied - somewhat hypocritically - lesbianism which Rachel is used to because of parentage… but maybe it was more than that. Maybe Quinn chose RuPaul as an insult because she thought it was something Rachel would be insecure about. Maybe she was manlier looking than she thought. Maybe her girliness, combined with her not quite developed body, did create the illusion of a man dressing like a girl.

She always paid for her manicures and pedicures and haircuts because her dads had no idea about anything like that. They weren't exactly stereotypical in that way, though sometimes Rachel wished they were. They had plied her with pamphlets and instructional videos when she got her first period (not all that long ago) ago), but they really didn't make those for make-up or plucking eyebrows or anything. While her dads are perfectly acceptable in many facets of parenthood, and she wouldn't trade them for the world, it was times like this she wished she had a maternal figure in her life or at least a friend to count on. She frowned to herself, all these thought quickly rushing through her mind.

Quinn was looking at her, sneer, though a little stilted, frozen in place as she waited for a reaction. Rachel looked at her right in the eyes, standing on her tiptoes to maintain eye level, searching for some insight to this rapid change in behavior. It was clear that it must have been Santana's confrontation, but what part of that would have caused such a drastic shift.

She took a deep breath and shook her head disapprovingly at the taller - barely, and she was just a light bloomer - girl and dramatically turned her back, strutting off purposefully. She would not reward Quinn's rudeness. At least, not any more than she already had.

She felt rather than saw the girl's gaze as it followed her movement. She had to brainstorm how to deal with this. As soon as she figured out what they had been doing in history class, sense Quinn's piercing gaze is all she can remember.

The next morning, she walked to school with her color-coded three-part plan in hand. First off, she would not cater to Quinn's obvious pathological need for attention. It would not set a good precedent. If Quinn spoke harshly to her or maybe shoved her a little, she would not dignify the other girl with a reaction. She would definitely not stare at her for an entire class period, causing her to miss an entire lecture. She would, though, go out of her way to try to be nicer to the girl. Not that she was ever mean, but she could be standoffish, maybe. She just figured, if Rachel was completely, unflinchingly kind to the other girl, there was no way Quinn could see her as a target. At least not without drowning in guilt. Right?

She was still trying to figure out how to compromise on these two objectives, because ignoring and friendliness do not really work all that well together. Nevertheless, when they saw each other in Math, their second period class but the first one they shared, Rachel made sure to give Quinn a quick smile as she walked in.

Not an overly attentive action, she was just acting in common decency. When Quinn accidentally dropped her pencil - and, yes, they were sitting together, but Rachel hadn't planned it - Rachel was quick to snatch it off the floor and hand it back to her.

In gym, Rachel was a still feeling a little wary of Santana, but still made it a point to courteously hold the door open for Quinn as they moved to exit the locker room. Which Santana somehow managed to take complete advantage of, following quickly behind Quinn, with Brittany in hand, and shoving Rachel as they passed, leaving the door to close in her face. With a huff, she pulled the door open again and hurries after them.

Of course, that day would be the day they mix with the boy's class to create a co-ed game of dodge ball. Fantastic.

While Rachel has never been the first pick, competitive instincts and a healthy amount of respect for Rachel's fierce intensity usually places her somewhere in the middle. But, possibly as a sign of her flailing level of respect from her peers, Rachel finds more and more people being chosen before her. When Santana, who is, of course, a team captain, snickers as she picks Georgia, the girl whose clumsiness accidently broke another girl's nose just 3 weeks ago, Rachel knows it is no coincidence.

For a moment, she wants to scream at the other girl, yell about the unfairness of the situation. Push and fight at them. Rage at Quinn, who was laughing even as she glanced at her with a hint of concern in her eyes. She scowled at the girl, not wanting to deal with the mixed messages.

She took a quick breath, mentally searching through her internal music catalogue for the perfect song. It hit her and she shoved the scowl off her face and gave Quinn a quick smile before putting on the show face she practiced every night in front of the mirror.

_You can't stop an avalanche__ a__s it races down the hill__  
__You can try to stop the seasons, girl, but you know you never will_

She allows the opening lyrics of _Hairspray'_s "You Can't Stop the Beat" to soothe her and hummed along with the melody even as she sang along in her head.

Luckily for her sanity, Noah put her out of her misery, picking her for his team. She was not to thankful, though. The only ones left were Jacob Ben Israel, Kurt Hummel-the rather obviously gay boy who repeatedly rebuffed her offers of friendship, the boy in the wheelchair who normally hung out with that girl with a speech impediment, and a couple of somewhat overweight girls who Noah either figured world make big targets or priggishly didn't want on his team. Still, she may have been bottom of the barrel, but at least she hadn't ended up with Santana.

Rachel struts to her team, show face still in place, and stood somewhat near Quinn who had been Noah's first pick after his dopey looking beast-fiend (Flynn?), although Rachel figures Santana's team would have snatched her up immediately after Brittany if she had first pick. Noah gave her a quick nod of acknowledgement but otherwise ignored her, busy debating with…Flynn (she's about 75% sure that is his name and while the percentage is not high enough to say out loud, she figures it's enough to name him in her mind) on the benefits of picking the picking a "fatty" over "homo."

Rachel pushes them out of her mind, resisting the urge to confront and lecture the boys on their ignorance – a PowerPoint was already being created in her mind – and Rachel instead began her stretches. She paid no mind to the fact that nobody else was stretching, she had to prepare her body for any activity, just like preparing herself with vocal exercises before a performance.

She stretched until the others were finished picking teams and jumped up to join her teammates, almost bumping into Quinn, who was standing just about directly behind her. Quinn was staring, again, of course, with her eyebrows raised, seemingly frozen. Rachel cautiously sidestepped the other girl, maintaining a weird sort of eye contact. She really didn't understand how the other girl was so popular, she really was quite weird at times.

She glanced back over her shoulder to make sure the other girl eventually moved, which she was, and happened to catch Santana glaring harshly at her. She sighed and moved into place, confused.

Still, she kept to her original plan, not showing any unnecessary attention but giving a congratulatory high five when the other girl pelted people out of the game. While dodge ball was the sort of unnecessarily violent game that encouraged aggressive behavior in her peers that she ultimately disapproved of, Quinn, smiling exuberantly, was obviously enjoying herself.

Rachel is doing moderately well for herself, as well. Her size and energetic nature plays in her favor, allowing her to dodge any balls coming her way, and she even caught a few, sending people temporarily out of the game and allowing one of her team members to rejoin the game. She has even, though she abhors violence, thrown the red balls at people – happy they were using foam substitutes instead of the rubber balls that hurt more and were a bit too large for her hands, though she has missed every time. She almost hit Brittany at one point, causing Santana to send a ball in her general direction, but the other girl did a split and dodged out of the way, smiling in her direction.

Rachel is ashamed to admit that there was one point when she had a clear shot at Santana, distracted by Brittany, but, in a moment of weakness, chose not to take it. It was, though, very satisfactory to see Santana hit a moment later by Quinn, who shot Rachel a confident smirk. Rachel smiled back, even as she wondered if Quinn had taken note of her moment of embarrassing weakness. She did have to hold back a giggle as Noah also hit Santana, illegally since she was already out, in the rear with a ball as she walked off the makeshift arena. He was lucky the gym teacher somehow managed to miss it.

Rachel worried her lip as Santana stalked off in a huff, middle finger raised in the air - which the teacher also somehow missed. She shook her head at the girl – Santana's back was turned, so it was okay – and gave a small sigh.

Her attention was torn away from Santana as one of the bright red balls smacked her in the back of head. Once again, the teacher managed to miss the illegal headshot, Rachel doubted that she was even paying the slightest bit of attention at this point, so Rachel abruptly turned to face her teammates – one of whom had just engaged in friendly fire… most likely on purpose.

Since her teammates were the ones who had pegged her, it did not count, so she refused to leave the field and this meant that she could confront her errant team member.

She looked at them all, trying to discern the guilty party, and her sixth sense quickly pointed out the culprit. Also, a laughing Noah was pointing at scowling, yet smirking Quinn.

She huffed, barely swallowing a lecture, and thought of her next move. Quinn's mood swings really were becoming quite annoying, confusing and irritating in equal measure, but the longer Rachel observed her curious, and somewhat contrasting actions, the more the puzzle came together in her mind. Raising her head high and looking Quinn right in the eye, she took a step towards the girl, mouth open and ignoring Noah completely, and she would swear that the girl shivered.

Before she could speak, though, she has once again interrupted by a bright red ball, this time clipping her shoulder. With a sigh of exasperation, she turned to face the other team and watched as Brittany jumped up and down, clapping. Noticing she has Rachel's attention, Brittany raises both fists in the air, shaking them, and mimics the noise of a roaring crowd.

Rachel smiles at the sight and shakes her head happily as she walks off the field. She watches as the taller girl continues her cheering, adding a little bit of dancing, and only stops to catch a ball that flies in her direction, bringing Santana back in the game.

Honestly, she doesn't mind being pegged by Brittany in such an honest manner. Sure, her back was turned, but in a game like this that really was her own fault and Brittany, at the very least, was only having a good time. It was probably a good thing that Brittany halted her conversation with Quinn anyway.

She joined the ranks of the others who had been hit out, paying little attention to the ongoing game. Technically, she should be giving it her full attention, there was always the chance a ball would be caught on her side and they would choose to bring her back in, but judging by how teams had been picked earlier, this was somewhat unlikely.

Instead she choose to think about her future and what goals she should be undertaking. She did not have a notebook, nor did she possess a superhuman memory – which was highly unfair in her opinion – but one never knows when genius would strike. Currently she was debating posting videos of herself online.

She had a nice backlog of videos she had been recording recently - it was good to practice her voice _and_ her presence on camera, but it also allowed her to critique her own performance – and had been thinking on posting them online. She really was of two minds about the issue, though. The positives were obvious. She could get discovered and it would also allow her to share her talent and possibly inspire a fan base. At the same time, the videos weren't perfect. She wasn't all that handy with a camera and it was only her around. People would be able to see inside her room…Jacob Ben Israel would probably find them! Plus, was there any current, serious stars who had been discovered online. It seemed a little desperate.

Her musings were interrupted by a shout.

"Berry," shouted Quinn, holding one of the red balls in one hand and the other on her hip, "Back in the game!" Rachel's brows furrowed in confusion even as she took her place back on the field. This was…weird. Even when Quinn had been watching her all the time, they never interacted, and now that they have been interacting, it usually isn't …nice.

"In front me," Quinn hisses, giving her a light push forward.

"What?" Rachel asked, a slight laugh of disbelief escaping, as she tried to position herself to Quinn's liking.

"I…you're like my guard. Anybody throws a ball at me, it has to hit you first. Why else would I waste my catch on you?" Quinn sneers, not quite looking at her. From their left, Noah lets out a barking laughing, tossing his ball at the other team before raising his hand for a high five. With an eye roll, Quinn ignores the hand and gets back into an athletic stance.

Rachel also rolls her eyes, at the both of them, but also prepares herself for the rest of the game, which, thankfully, goes rather smoothly. Afterwards, they all head back to the locker room, Santana and Quinn leading the group, of course, when Brittany stops her.

"Hey, Rachel?" the taller girl questions, lightly halting her trip to the locker room by grasping her shoulder.

"Yes, Brittany," she replies, keeping an eye out to make sure Santana doesn't come back looking for Brittany.

"You did, like, really well today. Me and Santana were really… impressed that you overcame… your disabledness." The girl manages this all with a nonchalant, straight face, her voice the quiet monosyllabic tone, with the slightest hint of confusion, that Rachel is used to from her. In confusion, Rachel shifts her eyes away from the locker room door, giving Brittany her full attention, tilted her head a little in askance.

"What…what disability (Rachel is pretty sure that is what Brittany meant) are you talking about?" she asks, not sure if she wants to know since this has a heavy Santana feel to it. Brittany returns her head tilt of confusion.

"Your …smurfism. We hope you get better soon." With that, Brittany walks off into the boys' locker room. Rachel feels torn between going after her to convince that she doesn't have 'smurfism' and just shaking her head and walking off. Considering that any conversation with Brittany would leave her, most likely, even further confused, she heads to the locker room. She doesn't want to be late, after all.

As she enters the room, she notices that just about everyone is already dressed and just hanging around waiting for the bell to ring. Somehow, this include Brittany, even though Rachel is positive that she had walked into the boys' room, although she does not that Brittany seems to be wearing someone else's clothes and they look decidedly male. The only two still changing are Quinn and Santana, which is weird since they were the first in line to make it to the locker room. As the both pull on their shirts, she notices that Quinn is glaring at a smug looking Santana. Everyone quiets as she walks into view and stare at her.

It is decidedly creepy, but one day everyone will be staring at her much more positively, so she ignore them and heads to her locker. She frowns as she notices her lock is open. Quickly pulling it off, she opens the locker and searches through her things. Her body spray and few feminine hygiene items are still there. He backpack seems untouched. The shoes she wears during her non-gym classes rest easy. But her clothes…

"Where's my clothes?" she shrieks, turning around to face the group of snickering girls. Some of the people don't make I contact with her, looking at the ground, but most are openly laughing at her. None of them are answering. She notices that Quinn is still glaring at Santana and makes the obvious leap. She walks to the other girl, hands on hip and scowl in place, trying not to let the anger currently rushing in her get out of hand.

"Santana Lopez, what did you do with my clothes?" she asks as calmly as possible.

"Get out of my face," Santana sneers and shoots a quick glance at Quinn, "RuPaul. I wouldn't touch your clothes, I might get diseases. But, wherever they are now, I'm sure it's a better place."

The bell rings and Santana grabs her bag and a bottle of Diet Coke she must have purchased at the vending machines, clearly ready to leave, but Rachel grabs her arm to prevent her. Santana wrenches her arm away and pushes at the younger girl.

"Don't touch me," she snarls, and Rachel notices that none of the other girls are leaving. "If you want to find those disgusting clothes of yours, I suspect you look where they belong, in the toilet. Now, I am going to leave. Have a wonderful day and remember what happens when you mess with Santana Lopez." And with that, she opens her Diet Coke, and Rachel stares, wondering why she would take a drink at a time like this. Instead, the girl proceeds to throw the drink on her white gym shirt, staining it brown.

Rachel jumps away with a yell, clearly not soon enough, and the class erupts in laughter. She sees Quinn giving a somewhat fake looking laugh and turns away, tears forming in her eyes. Her clothes are obviously sitting in the toilet, but Rachel had at least had the option of wearing her gym clothes. Now she was going to be walking around in dirty gym clothes with a huge brown stain. And her dads were both at work, so she was stranded here. She could probably walk home, but she knew the administration would not let her leave without an escort.

Eventually, the other girls left her sitting in the locker room, not wanting to be late. Rachel felt a hefty amount of distaste for gym. She quietly, not even able to sing through the pain, gathered her stuff, pausing to spray some of her fruity body spray over her, and left the room. She didn't want to hang around for the next class.

She headed to her locker and made the appropriate switches, grateful that she, at least, had lunch the next period. It was the first of the lunch period and she knew that she shared it with Quinn, Santana, and Brittany, though she obviously didn't sit with them. She wouldn't let them see her in this state either. Instead, she grabbed her lunch bag, thankful to not be buying today, and headed off to the auditorium. She spent most of the period alternating between eating and trying to rub out the stain with some water and a towel. It didn't work to well.

Quinn, meanwhile, was not mean to her for the rest of the day. Rachel was the last to their Art class, not really wanting to be seen by the snickering masses, and went to take her customary seat near Quinn. To her surprise, there was already something on her desk.

Folded on her seat was a light yellow cardigan. Holding it up, she remembered exactly who was wearing an identical one during Math. She looks over at Quinn, noticing for the first time that she was only wearing the dress and not the matching cardigan. She doesn't want to make any assumptions, but does notice that Quinn is adamantly not looking at her. Ignoring the weird look she is receiving from Noah, sitting in his usual seat in front of Quinn, she puts on the cardigan and buttons it all the way up. She smiles to herself, but per Quinn's obvious, if unspoken, request, does not bring it up.

She brings an extra pair of clothes with her the next day, hiding them in her real locker, but hopes she doesn't ever need them. Unfortunately, when she finally pulls them out, it is because of Quinn.


	5. Ice Queen Cometh

Ice Queen Cometh

After the soda incident, Santana mostly left Rachel alone for a while. She would make the occasional catty remark, she was quiet excellent at those, but was not nearly as confrontational with her. She knew that when monkeys see, monkeys do and that she no longer needed to micromanage making Rachel's life miserable. That did not mean, however, that she had stopped causing trouble behind the scenes.

Rachel had worn Quinn's cardigan for the rest of the school day and, while most of her classmates were too dim to notice the transfer of the clothing, Santana, at the very least, understood that Rachel hadn't ripped the sweater off Quinn's body and ran off with it.

No, Santana seemed to understand exactly what had happened, even if Quinn had been as discreet as possible.

Possibly because of this, Santana and Quinn's relationship had taken a somewhat troubling turn. The two girls had seemed a little standoffish with each other since the beginning of the year, but they also seemed to work as a cohesive unit. They really did seem to be the epitome of "frenemies," which apparently usually worked quite well for them. Nevertheless, even if Santana was one of the only ones who realized it, Quinn had, in helping Rachel, basically acted against Santana.

Personally, Rachel really wasn't sure what the proper protocol for this situation was. The two girls were both very attractive in their own way, and they were not brain dead like many of the attractive girls in the school, so it was easy to see why they were already in the running for most popular. Both girls were already shoo-ins for not only being on the Cheerios in high school, which was apparently a big deal, but were even competing for the top spots. They both were headstrong women who knew what they wanted. The two, though, were also vastly different.

Quinn was, for lack of a better word, gentler than Santana. More wholesome. She earned outstanding grades, even _slightly_ better than Rachel's, from studying hard and putting in real effort. She seemed mostly uninterested in her already numerous male suitors and was even in a bible group. She had her snide moments, from what Rachel could tell, but was never malicious. She seemed to be mostly nice, or at least indifferent, to the student body in general and was polite and friendly to the teachers and people of authority. Everyone loved her.

Santana was a lot harsher in general. She was already an outrageous flirt, although the manner with which she flirted always gave Rachel the impression that she wasn't really interested, just willing. She made fun of everyone, to their faces, including the teachers. And she paid about as much attention during class as Noah, which meant not very much. The girl wasn't stupid by any means, Rachel wouldn't hesitate to call her crafty and clever, but she didn't dedicate herself to anything or anyone, aside, of course, for Brittany. Most of her popularity came from fear and desire. People felt she was above them because she acted like they were lower than her.

The two of them worked well together. While Quinn's friendly demeanor usually meant she was in the lead for most popular, Santana was the one that seemed to get things done. To the public, they were still a unified team, but Rachel had seen more than one hidden, hissing squabble between the two girls.

She didn't know the exact words exchanged, but Quinn was always the one who ended up looking torn. Santana just looked angry. She didn't know why, because someone as nice and smart and pretty as Quinn would always be well liked and had the potential to get whatever she wanted in life, but Quinn seemed to honestly need to be the most popular. It wasn't enough to liked or even respected by the masses, she had to maintain the _most_ popular position. The popular boys and girls in the school were the ones whose opinions mattered most, and whatever Santana was saying seemed to be threatening that. Gradually, Quinn's moments of antagonism became more frequent and her gaze became wistful at best.

There were still those moments where she would catch Quinn staring at her in a way that was decidedly not wistful, bordering more on hungry, especially in gym, and Rachel still heavily featured as her inspiration during art class, but those moments were definitely more distant now. And part of that may have been Rachel's fault.

As much as she cared about what she had dubbed the Queen Quinn Situation, her focus had wandered to herself and her own situation. Since the soda incident, her social status had plummeted even further, which, on its own, would not have been that big of a deal. Despite what most people think, she didn't really mind her current lack of popularity. Of course, she wanted friends and people she could count on, and she certainly wouldn't mind being as popular as Quinn or Santana. But she was content to do without it.

Whether it was her personality or her parents, Rachel had grown up without many friends and very little social status. She was used to the nagging feeling of lonliness. She _knew_ that there wasn't something so wrong with her that, once she was out of this little town and could choose her life, she would still be a loser. She was completely…content with people ignoring her in the hallways and in class. Once she opened her mouth and belted a song, they wouldn't – couldn't – ignore her.

Things were getting really bad lately, though. It wasn't really a matter of not having friends anymore, as Santana's attack on her person had led to people playing a game of follow the leader and becoming much more vicious. The incident may have occurred in the privacy of the locker room, but teenagers were notorious gossips and the story had spread quickly.

Since then, Rachel had faced more teasing and taunts, especially from the girls in her year. They had become spiteful and just plain mean, though not particularly original, taking every opportunity to insult her wardrobe, her hair, and, no doubt following Santana's example, had started making some upsetting insinuations about her body. Boys had taken to leering and snarling in equal measure, and, just the other day, she had overheard Noah Puckerman talking to his friends in a disgusting manner.

"Yeah, dude," he had started, a smirk lighting his face and the love of an audience gleaming in his eyes as he spoke to the small crowd of older students, "I went to temple with her. She's always been a freak, but that's what happens when you got fairies raising you, right?" The crowd laughed boisterously and Noah shined at the attention before he noticed her watching from a distance. His eyes had met hers and, if only for a brief moment, he looked regretful, but then just shrugged it off.

It had hurt.

She really didn't understand it. The way she was being treated honestly baffled her. She had, as previously mentioned, never been popular, but people had never acted like this around her, and she hadn't changed. She was the same girl, so why were people treating her like a cockroach.

Whenever she raised her hand in class, everyone else groaned. And they shouldn't! It wasn't about showing off or giving her an excuse to talk, like people insinuated. It was the fact that nobody else in the class was raising their hand, and the oppressive silence as the teacher just stared, waiting, was too much. He would eventually call on someone who wasn't raising their hand anyways, and that person would then have to stumble through an answer. She was helping.

The more it happened, though, the more she hated it. The way the class all looked at her before she even raised her hand, and the look in the teacher's eyes as he said nothing in her defense made her feel like dirt. If anything, the immature, groaning students were pulling him to their side, which, given his role as an impartial educator, made no sense. It, honestly, made her want to just stay quiet, keep her hand, and her head, down and get through the class in peace. That wasn't how she was raised, though. She was meant to stand out from the rest, sparkle and shine like a gold star, and never back down from a challenge. If they hated it so much, expected it so much, she would give them exactly what they expected.

She raised her hand for every question, face impassive and gaze focused straight forward, and let the groans pass right over her. Not only did she answer the questions, but also answered them as clearly and completely as possible. She studied hard, aced her tests, and turned in every homework assignment. She ignored the way no one wanted her in their groups or were willing be her partner. Just like her, they didn't have a choice, and she wouldn't let their negative attitudes effect her grades or her happiness. They could act like immature children all they wanted, but she wouldn't let it bring her down. It would just be incentive to do better.

When people walk by her desk and 'accidentally' knock her paper to the floor, she became even more organized, investing in a trapper keeper that keeps everything together. When someone fills her locker with a sticky, repugnant foam, rendering it unusable for a good while and ruining her books and personal items, she replaces everything and gets a new book bag (with wheels!) so she can carry all her stuff with her and eliminate the need for the locker. When girls start trying to trip her in gym class, she goes out of her way to avoid the others, even if it means putting less effort in, and starts waking up earlier in the morning to complete her own exercise.

When nobody will sit with her at lunch, when they knock her lunch to the floor or slyly sneak away her lunch money, she begins to bring healthier, tastier lunches and eats them alone in the unused auditorium. Which is where it happens.

She was having another bad day. The period before was, of course, gym, and somebody had decided to flush the little make-up she had started using down the toilet (thanks for the idea Santana) and somebody had succeeded in tripping her during a jog, leaving with a scraped knee. During second period, Math, she hadn't raised her hand for once because she honestly didn't know the answer and, of course, the teacher felt the need to make a big deal about it and call on her anyways. Everyone had found it hilarious.

She just needed a break.

While she was eating her pasta salad, she ruminated on her day and felt there was only one option to brighten her day. With a new urgency, she finished off most of her lunch as quickly as possible and put everything away so she could sit down at the piano that had apparently been left there after a recent band practice. She wasn't great or anything, she found herself passable on the piano at best, so she never played in front of other people, but for the greatest effect she needed accompaniment.

Her fingers glided over the keys, plucking out a familiar melody, and she opened her mouth and let her true talent show.

_There is a castle on a cloud,__  
__I like to go there in my sleep,__  
__Aren't any floors for me to sweep,__  
__Not in my castle on a cloud._

"Castle on a Cloud" wasn't her favorite song from the seminal Broadway classic _Les Miserables _by any means_, _but she felt it adequately expressed her current emotions. As with all her performances, even without an audience, she put everything she had into the song. She closed her eyes, fingers finding the basic melody of the song from memory, and imagined she was on stage, the crowd crying in sympathy and eyes wide in awe.

_I know a place where no one's lost,  
I know a place where no one cries,  
Crying at all is not allowed,  
Not in my castle on a cloud._

She cut off there, soon she would need another singer and the metaphor would begin to fall apart anyways. She briefly ran through her mental catalogue, looking for another, maybe more cheerful, song to sing before she opened her eyes. With a sigh, she looked into the empty chairs and saw Quinn standing in the walkway looking shell-shocked.

She stood abruptly from the piano.

"Quinn," she practically stuttered, which was not a good way to start what she hoped would be their first actual conversation, "What are you doing here?" The other girl flinched a little, looking around nervously.

"I should go," she said, quiet, and Rachel quickly acted.

"Wait, no, sorry. I didn't mean it like that. I just…" Rachel cut off, not sure what she could say to entice the other girl to stay. She may have been set on ignoring her for the most part, but, even through her somewhat nastier actions, she had let Rachel use her cardigan and had apparently searched her out. Moreover, Rachel just really needed someone to be kind to her right now.

"Stay! I mean, please stay. Come up here and sit. You can have some of my carrot sticks that I didn't eat, which, as I'm sure you know, are very healthy and good for you, especially if you don't slather them in some sort of dip, which I don't – not that there's anything wrong with doing that if you like dip, just that I don't have any if you want it. But I do still have your sweater. I've washed it and everything at home because I feel it's best to take care of other's belongings that they kindly let you use, but I didn't know when the best time to give it to you was and didn't want to carry it around all the time, but I can bring it in whenever you want it or need it and it can be a very covert exchange if necessary-" Rachel was stopped by Quinn's hand gentle resting on her arm. She blushed, realizing how out of control her speech had gotten.

It had done its job, though, as Quinn had slowly made her way up the stage and was looking at her with a mix of awe and curiosity.

"Singing improves breathe control," she offered, looking at the floor.

"Oh," Quinn replied, hand still on her arm, "Yeah, that makes sense. I don't…you can keep the cardigan, I mean, if you want. It looked nice on you."

Rachel raised her head back up and smiled in thanks at the older girl, delighting in the spreading blush despite herself.

"I- Thanks…it looked nicer on you though," Rachel replied, because, honestly, it was the absolute truth. Quinn's blush darkened and Rachel realized exactly what she was doing. "Oh, but – and I really do not mean to be rude – why are you here. Not that I mind, because I really don't, but usually this place is deserted." Quinn blinked at her, hesitating for a moment, but seemed to come to some sort of decision.

"I, uh, I'm pretty good at math. I have the problem from earlier today if you wanted to go over it. I mean, you're smart so it shouldn't take much time, but Hendrick's a jerk and should have explained it better," Quinn said, hesitantly like always, and Rachel knew she had to be careful in her reply, as to not scare the girl off. But something stood out.

"That's very kind of you Quinn, and I appreciate the offer," Rachel started, noticing the small smile on Quinn's face, "but how did you even know I was going to be here?" The smile dropped and Quinn took a step backwards. Rachel sighed a little, knowing she had spooked the girl.

"I, uh, didn't know you were going to be here," Quinn said, fumbling her words, "I just was walking down the hall, because I wanted to find you and you weren't in the cafeteria, and…and I saw a cat running down the hall and into the auditorium. I followed it because it might have been Brittany's. She brings in animals and loses them sometimes. It was white. And small. Like a kitten more than a cat."

Rachel kept her face blank, not even raising an eyebrow, in the face of that ridiculous story. The girl was a horrible liar and she could only hope it wouldn't come back and bite her in the behind one day. But she was trying to not scare her away and catching her in a lie probably wasn't the best way to do that, so she decided to let it go. As long as Quinn wasn't stalking her, it didn't really matter. And if she was, Rachel could at least recognize and appreciate the dramatic nature of the situation.

"Alright," Rachel said easily, willing the still nervous Quinn to calm down, "I'm glad the…Kitten was able to find this place and I hope, if it is Brittany's, she finds the creature." Quinn visibly relaxed and Rachel briefly wondered if the older girl actually thought she bought the somewhat lame attempt of a lie. No wonder she needed Santana around if that was the best she could do.

"It'll be fine," Quinn cheerfully replies, calming down significantly, "Brittany and her pets always find each other." She took a step closer to Rachel, light smile still on her face, and Rachel stood her ground, even though a part of her wanted to take a step back. They were standing really close.

"So," Quinn began, obviously anxious to move past her fib and continue the conversation, "Is that what you always do in here? Sing? Because you were…really good. Like amazing." Rachel, unable to help herself, beams at the other girl. One thing Rachel is sure of is her musical ability. Personally, she believes she was born musically gifted, and she has the trophies to prove it, but she also believes in hard work and has been doing everything in her power to improve herself, so it is nice to finally hear someone else say it.

"Thank you, Quinn. I always appreciate honest feedback, especially of a positive nature. One day, my name will be up in lights as I grace the Broadway stage and every one will learn of my talent," she enthusiastically responded. Quinn smiled at her, a tad indulgently to be honest, but Quinn would see Rachel's potential in time, so she let it go. She looked up a Quinn, who was suddenly really close.

She swallowed briefly, unable to look away from the other girl's eyes, which were a bit mesmerizing and a magnificent color, and felt the heat of the spot light. They were onstage, center stage, in a quiet auditorium. Nobody was watching and Quinn's hand, maybe just her pinky, was softly grazing her arm. This was weird.

"How's everything going with you and Santana," she blurted, pulling away from Quinn and the sizzling tension.

"What?" Quinn replied, looking distraught at either the question or Rachel jerking away.

"I – I saw a couple arguments lately, I mean, I wasn't watching them or spying or anything, but you both have been sniping at each other a lot and I saw you guys arguing in the hallway a couple of times," Rachel rambled, still trying to dispel that weird feeling in the air.

"Oh, yeah, Santana," Quinn said, looking a little out of sorts, "She's just being a bitch. She's mad that I gave you the cardigan, like I did it just to spite her. We have an agreement going on that helps both of us, and she thinks I was breaking it, which I wasn't." Quinn answered easily enough, still looking flustered and gazing at Rachel as if she was hypnotized.

Part of her didn't believe it. Not that Quinn was lying, but rather that Santana wasn't being sneaky. She remembered the first time Santana confronted her, remembered the reason, and knew that Santana was smarter than her grades suggested. If Rachel would hazard a guess, she would say that even Santana knew how careful she had to be with Quinn, although certainly not gentle.

Rachel sat back down on the piano's bench, letting her fingers drift over the ivory keys and felt Quinn settle next to her. She didn't know what had happened that Quinn would not only seek her out, but actually engage in conversation, but she did like it, even if she was a little worried.

"How about you," Quinn spoke up, hand reaching over to stop her nervously fluttering fingers and staying there, "I mean, how are you doing lately? There is, after all, a reason you're eating lunch in the auditorium." Quinn quirked her head a little, obviously curious if not concerned. Rachel, though, was a little hesitant to answer.

It wasn't that she didn't trust Quinn…well, it really was. She wanted to be able to trust the other girl, but she thought it would be unfounded at this point. After all, this was the first real conversation they had. The two of them certainly weren't friends. Quinn alternated between spitting carefully crafted insults at her, helping her from behind the scenes, and staring at her. It was like the girl was bipolar. She may be in a friendly mood right now, but the situation was sure to switch. She was fairly sure, at this point, that if she really needed something, like an extra shirt, she might be able to persuade Quinn to help her, as long as it was done in secret. At the same time, she doubted the girl would talk to her at all, or at least in a pleasant manner, in public. And that made her hesitant. But she also figured that, well, Quinn should know. Maybe if she knew just what was happening, she might want to stop it.

"I always spend my lunch here," Rachel started, not looking at the other girl. "I don't really have anyone to sit with anyways, so no one is going to miss me, and, this way, no one will knock my food to the ground or on me." Quinn made a non-committal noise of sympathy, leaning gently against her, and she really didn't know how to take that. She looked up at the other girl, softly gazing into her eyes before continuing.

"I mean, I don't really mind that people don't like me, I've accepted that, but I just don't…It's not just that I don't understand the rudeness. I mean, I believe that everyone should at least be polite to each other. We're old enough to be acting at least a little bit like adults at this point, but people are so incredibly rude. If I don't like someone, I might not go out of my way for them, but I would, at the very least, remain polite, if not kind. And if that is really too hard, if civility, the very thing that makes us different from animals, is too much for them, then why can't they just leave me alone?" Rachel meant every word. She wanted Quinn to hear them.

She may have been one of the nicest popular kids, but she had still called her RuPaul a while ago and, just recently, simplified the idea to Tranny. She was the one who had snarled at another girl in one of their shared classes about her darker make-up, calling her a goth freak. And she was the one who, briefly during one of the overheard arguments, criticized Santana's choice to flirt (and more) with Noah because he was just a "Lima Loser" and destined for the gas pump. Unfortunately, she really didn't think Quinn was listening all that closely. The other girl had a far off expression on her face, giving Rachel the impression that everything she was saying was going in one ear and out the other, and she was just staring deeply into her eyes and leaning in closely and –!

Kissing her!

Rachel, perhaps foolishly, tried to jerk away quickly, and, in an entirely ungraceful move, feel backwards off the bench. She leapt up quickly, one hand over her lips, and stared at the girl. She had thought it possible before, allowed herself to participate in some far off delusion that Quinn Fabray, Christian golden girl, had a crush on her, but she hadn't actually thought it was true. Quinn looked equally shocked. Actually, more than shocked, she looked panicked. The two stared at each other for a moment, neither sure of the next move.

"You kissed me!" Rachel gawked at the other girl, mostly because the exclamation hadn't come from Rachel's mouth.

"Wh-what?" Rachel questioned, not very eloquently, as disbelief flooded her.

"You – you filthy pervert!" The other girl shouted, but it wasn't in anger. If anything, it sounded like despair. Already tears were glistening in Quinn's eyes as the other girl abruptly stood from the bench, notably not falling and making a fool out of herself. Rachel, through the shock, hardened slightly.

"I most certainly did not," she said tightly, not willing to shoulder the blame, even if Quinn was freaking out. Then came the anger.

Quinn was outright glaring at her, face set in harsh lines, and she took a very deliberate step towards the smaller girl. Rachel, though, didn't move, standing firm despite the outrageous cocktail of emotions that were swirling about. No tears fell, but, when she spoke, Quinn's voice was hoarse with bottled emotions.

"You disgusting little f-freak. How dare y-you." Quinn's hands were tight fists at her side, but she didn't take another step towards or away from the other girl. So, Rachel took a step towards her. She walked slowly, keeping her eyes level and as gentle as possible considering the situation.

"Quinn," she spoke, her voice soft but unyielding, "I didn't kiss you. You kiss-"

"No I didn't!" Quinn shouted before Rachel could finish, taking another step forward so she could stand tall and look down at the other girl. "Don't – Why would you- That's a lie!"

"Quinn," she said gently, hesitantly reaching out a hand to comfort the other girl.

"Don't touch me, you freak," Quinn pulled away almost falling off the stage. Unable to stop herself, Rachel grabbed her arm to steady her, but was quickly pushed away, luckily away from the edge of the stage.

"I said don't touch me. Don't –don't touch-" and Quinn turned and looked away, closing her eyes to try to hold back the tears that were finally escaping. She raised her hand to wipe them away, speaking harshly under her breath, and Rachel made sure to keep her distance. Finally, she seemed to have collected herself somewhat as she looked up at Rachel. She slowly grabbed her bag and climbed off the stage, keeping a firm gaze on the other girl. She turned to leave, but stopped abruptly and half-turned to look at Rachel over her shoulder.

"Stay away from me, you d-dyke," she ordered darkly, although it looked physically painful to say, "Don't come near me again... And-and don't tell anyone."

Rachel watched as Quinn hustled out the door, none of her normal swagger in her step, and collapsed to the stage. She stayed there the next period, skipping Art for the first time, any class for the first time, mulling over the events. Truthfully, she didn't think she could face Quinn during the class. Despite her suspicions, she had _never_ thought things would turn out like this.

She skipped her next period too, but it was study hall so it didn't really matter, and instead picked herself up enough to sing a couple songs to help her lift her spirit. This helped her enough to make it to her sixth period Science class, although she could not for the life of her remember what the teacher actually said.

After Science, though, was History, and she did share that class with Quinn. She almost skiped, but Art and study hall is bad enough. She is not a delinquent. She girds her loins and marches purposefully into History.

Quinn is not there.

According to her sources (overhearing people talk), people had heard that Quinn ate something that made her sick at lunch and had to go home. Whatever that was in the auditorium, and Rachel still hasn't completely wrapped her mind around the whole ordeal, sent Quinn running home. She knew she hadn't done anything wrong, but, at that moment, she felt terrible. Soon she would feel worse.

The next day, Rachel walked into school with her normal, practiced smile, a mask of emotions. She had wanted to talk to her fathers about what had happened. Not only was she short on friends, but she would never discuss something like this, something so revealing about Quinn, with her peers anyways, and her fathers should have some experience in this area.

Unfortunately, they had been rather late coming home. She had ordered the traditional take-out for herself and stayed up late to wait for them. Her Dad came home first, close to her traditional bedtime, and she did try to approach the topic with him, but the second she mentioned a Fabray, he became closed-off and sent her to bed. She wanted to try with her Daddy, but he must have come home much later because she fell asleep before he came home and was gone when she woke up.

At least she had the whole first period to prepare for the inevitable meeting with Quinn. She wasn't quite sure how to act, despite her brainstorm session the previous night. If Quinn had managed to work through some things at her own home, she would gladly talk to the other girl and perhaps form a friendship, but she somehow doubted this was a real option. While she felt that things would be better for them in the long run if they had an honest discussion, possibly helping Quinn confront her obvious latent homosexuality, she also felt this was equally unlikely. The most obvious course of action, the one she figured Quinn would prefer she take, was to pretend nothing had happened and give Quinn time to work through her own issues. No matter how long it took.

She was still debating the issue in her head as she arrived at her locker. It had long since been cleaned and was much more convenient for her, so she had prank-proofed it as much as possible, such as plugging the vents, and had taken to using it again. She only kept the bare minimum in it, though, and took everything out at the end of the day. She was putting in her books for the day when she saw Quinn walking in her direction. That was somewhat peculiar.

For one thing, Quinn's locker and her first class – which isn't really a class but, rather, a pre-training course for some of the more talented potential Cheerios, run by Coach Sylvester each morning before she heads over to the High School – was not anywhere near Rachel's locker. Secondly, Quinn knows where Rachel's locker is, and there is no way that Quinn had already worked through her issues and is ready to speak to Rachel. Thirdly, and possibly most importantly, the potential cheerleader was holding what appeared to be an extra large Big Gulp that the cafeteria sold, for whatever reason, and there it is an impossibility that Quinn would be drinking that sugary mess of empty calories. Especially not right before Cheerio training.

As Quinn gets closer, Rachel turns to her locker so she is not staring at the other girl. She doubts it would have been appreciated.

"Hey, Stubbles," she hears, and Rachel turns, not at the name or the tone, but at the voice she finally heard in an actual conversation just yesterday. The other girl looks her right in the eyes, a small smirk on her face. The fear she saw yesterday, as well as the kindness, is completely gone and Quinn is as cold as the slushy in her hand. She glances down, noting the grape flavor, and, with a spark of insight, knows what is going to happen. She's thankful she is still bringing in a change of clothes.

"Just a little reminder on where we both stand," the blonde says, voice sharp but quiet, and the two are still locked in a stare as the frozen, sugary mess strikes her.

**A/N: I just wanted to thank everyone for all the wonderful reviews. They really make my day/night. You guys have been great. This is probably the turning point in the story. There's not much left after this, so I hope you all like it. I know this one was a little rough.**

**I'm probably going to post the second part of my two-shot soon and I have an idea after the prom episode for a one-shot where Quinn realizes she's basically, and accidentally, dating Rachel through Finn, so if anyone is interested, keep your eyes open.**

**Thank again for reading.**


	6. The Middle Years

The Middle Years

Things progressed in a fairly quick but predictable manner after Rachel's first slushy. At least until it hit a plateau.

Rachel had given much thought on how to deal with all this new information, and of course Quinn's newest actions, and came up with just about nothing.

She couldn't approach Quinn. As much as she wanted to be there for someone who was obviously having such issues with their sexuality, especially when she was apparently the source for much of the struggle, she could tell that Quinn just wasn't ready.

She wasn't really anxious for another Slushy facial anytime soon.

A confrontation wouldn't do either of them any good right now, especially since Rachel was still so unknowledgeable about the other girl. She didn't know anything about the other girl's home life, except that it was a heavily Christian household. When coming to terms with her sexuality, especially in an environment like this, Quinn's home life is probably the most important factor.

So she decided, possibly wrongly, that she would treat Quinn in the same manner she had treated Santana. Rachel wouldn't mention the whole sexuality issue, she would try and stay out of the other girl's way, and, throughout it all, do her best to remain pleasant.

She didn't think the slushy was an acceptable outlet for Quinn's feeling, but she was also willing to let the lapse in judgment go. People do crazy things when frightened, and, above all, she was pretty sure Quinn was terrified.

Unfortunately for Rachel, the mixed up emotions in Quinn's head did not find this acceptable.

Quinn still spent a lot of time staring at her. Except now, the gaze was not wistful or longing or even happy. Instead, all Rachel had to look forward to were heat-filled glares.

In math class, Rachel believed that Quinn's grade must have dropped considerably due to how often the other girl was glaring at her instead of paying attention to the teacher. Except, because Quinn, for some reason, still chose to sit close enough that Rachel was able to see each still superb grades on the quizzes and tests as they were handed back.

That actually confused Rachel. She had never had a crush on someone, not yet anyway, so she really didn't know how Quinn was feeling, but if Quinn hated how she was feeling so much, if she was even acknowledging it, why was she always around. Rachel would never try to force herself to feel differently about something, she would never be ashamed of her feelings one way or another and would fight for those feelings (which would cause her trouble in the future), but if she did, she would probably try to stay away from the object of her affection.

Quinn, though, seemed to be completely okay with being around Rachel all the time, as long as she was acting in anger. Just because they were glares didn't mean she still wasn't watching her, even in gym class. Sometimes Rachel would look over at Quinn and they only became glares when Quinn noticed the attention.

But it is true that her school situation did change. As bad as it seemed before, things unfortunately changed for the worse. Santana, luckily, seemed to back off, allowing Quinn to take the reins when dealing with Rachel, although she was always around to provide a witty insult. Still, even though Rachel had once caught her trying to put rocks in her food (and who put weird things in other people's food anyways), things with Santana were never personal.

Quinn was the one who took to pushing things in a discomforting direction with Rachel, and it was definitely personal. And the rest of the school, no longer worried about the conflicting nature of the two head girls, followed suit.

The next couple years for Rachel were not fun. Things were bad enough that she actually thought of going to her dads, even though she knew they would end up making it a spectacle. Instead, she persevered, pushing herself to use what was happening as inspiration to think of the future.

People were slow to take to Slushy throwing as a form of bullying. They could see why someone like Quinn Fabray could get away with it. Everyone loved Quinn, teachers and students, so of course she could get away with something so obvious. However, all it took was Noah Puckerman, of course, experimenting in the frozen beverages to discover that it really was easy to get away with.

It was such an embarrassing act, getting Slushied, that most people didn't report it, even if it did mean wearing a discolored shirt the rest of the day. Even if it was reported, the student who threw the Slushy could very easily claim that it slipped. The act itself was so simple, but demeaning, and provided the sort of physical comedy that students loved that it was no wonder people took to it.

Rachel herself, a frequent victim of Slushies, had taken to wearing thick sweaters that mostly protected her. She always brought an extra, but even her undershirt could work as a average shirt if necessary. Plus, she liked mixing it up between the professional looking argyle patterns and cute animals. It was an unfortunate side effect that it gave others just another thing to make fun of – constantly – but Rachel could never be sure if there was honestly something wrong with the way she was dressing, or if they were just looking for something to make fun of her with.

But, like with Santana, the rest of the school treated her with a sort of impersonal disdain. They didn't like her, but the thought it was funny and amusing to treat her like garbage. They did it because they liked treating someone bad to make themselves better, and Rachel was the socially acceptable target.

Quinn was the one who treated her like that because she was Rachel, which didn't really make that much of a difference, except that Quinn was one of the few who didn't really treat anyone else that badly.

Santana was to be feared because, no matter who you were, you would be treated with snark and snarls. Quinn was to be feared because, while she did have an attitude that seemed to be growing the more she hung out with certain people, she was basically nice unless you got on her bad side, like Rachel apparently had. They didn't know what Rachel had done, but they knew to try not to do anything so Quinn wouldn't treat them like she treated Rachel.

But mostly, despite the taunting and the bully, the harsh shoulder shrugs and the sneers, things with Quinn had mostly reached a impasse. The incident with Quinn seemed to cause her to snap into a frenzied rage at the mere sight of Rachel, and Rachel could not possibly guess what was going through the others girl's head.

Did she honestly believe that Rachel had kissed her a instead of the opposite and was trying to punish her? Did she know exactly what happened, maybe even her feelings, but was trying to distant herself from the emotions, attacking Rachel to both keep her silent and prevent another incident? Or was she really so confused and repressed that she was forcing away the emotions pretending they didn't exist, yet still drawn to Rachel in some fashion, and acting out her desires in an entirely unhealthy fashion?

Rachel had no idea, which meant she also didn't know how to proceed. She spent the rest of seventh grade and all of eighth grade trying to, while keeping true to herself and her goals, stay out of the other girl's way. It's not that she didn't want to help the other girl, even if her desire for friendship had bled away at the constant mistreatment for the most part, but she wouldn't even know where to start. And she had a sneaking suspicion that any real attempt would just lead to more hassles on her end.

That didn't stop her from subtly watching the other girl, trying to figure her out, even as she was pelted with insults and frozen sugar water.

Things only started changing a little when they all hit tenth grade. Quinn Fabray would probably remember this as the year she became a Cheerio, though not yet the captain, and completed her first step to ruling the school. Rachel remembered it as the year she got her first crush.

His name was Jonathon Thompson. It was a stupid crush, really, nothing special about it other than that it was her first. He wasn't really popular or anything and they had never actually spoken, but when she looked at him…butterflies.

Well, not at first. To be honest, she hadn't even noticed him until near the end of the school year, too busy figuring ways to avoid Quinn in her new uniform, full of fresh confidence and, apparently, a desire to spend every free moment mocking her. It couldn't be a coincidence that 1/3 of her bathroom visits ended up with Quinn either already there or entering before she left!

She can't even recall the first time she saw him, after all, he was two years older than her, already in the 11th grade, and they only shared one class – she was a little advanced and he was a little behind. Quinn happened to also be in the class, of course.

Apparently, according to the school records that she definitely did not sneak a peek at, he was on the wrestling team as well as band, which was surprising. Dark-haired and constantly smiling, Rachel definitely considered him cute and good-natured, if a bit dull, but that wasn't what drew her attention.

He had been sent out of for their shared class while they went over a test he still had to make up and Rachel, who had been answering questions all period, was sent to retrieve him. When she found him, though, the older boy had apparently gotten bored reading the text book and was, rather dorkily, dancing and singing on his iPod. He was great.

It was the first time she felt like this for someone and, though she knew her popularity level and the fact that she was at least three years his junior meant he wouldn't look twice at her, she wanted to pounce on him. At the same time, she was overcome with an unprecedented shyness. She had never felt this way. She had always been a take charge sort of girl, so to be rendered speechless and bashful was unheard of.

Yet, she was the one spending her English classes staring googly-eyed at some boy she had never talked to and spending math filling her notebook up with little hearts and doodles. She even came up with a number of clever plans to force their interaction, including anonymously tricking and/or blackmailing him into glee club where they would officially meet, sing together, and fall in love.

Their current male lead, despite being unfairly favored by Mr. Ryerson, was stilted sounding with no power behind his vocals or stage presence, and Rachel would welcome a replacement.

It was not, however, meant to be. Before Rachel was ever able to introduce herself, Quinn became involved.

Apparently, Rachel had not been very subtle in her mooning, but Rachel had no idea of what was to come. One day she was happily planning her wedding to the future Mr. Berry – she was not changing her name, Rachel Berry had start appeal! – and the next she was sobbing her eyes out.

The first time she knew something was going awry was during English class while she was staring as Jonathon stuttered out his presentation on _Of Mice and Men._ Quinn, who was once again sitting next to her for some reason, leaned over to sneer at her.

"Hey Lennie," the girl snarled under her breath, much to Rachel's confusion, "Try to keep the drooling over George up there to a minimum. I don't want to slip on the puddle of saliva you're so intent on making. After all, as future head cheerleader, Coach Sylvester would have a heart attack if I injured myself."

Rachel rolled her eyes and shifted away from the girl, annoyed at both the implication – that she was drooling, that she was a man, that Jonathon was slow like George; Quinn was rather good at slipping in multiple insults – and the way Quinn had once again forced her rise to Cheerleading into a conversation. It seemed like Quinn was always bragging about it to her in their few conversations, reminiscent of the girl who once pushed herself in gym class just for attention.

"Look at me, look at me," she imagined the other girl spouting with a grin, twirling around in her silly red skirt, "I'm a cheerleader now." She held in a snort.

It would be endearing if it wasn't always caked in a couple layers of insults.

If she knew what was going to happen next, she probably wouldn't have ignored Quinn.

As soon as the class ending, Rachel was up and grabbing her bag. It was a little unfortunate, in retrospect, that she had a seat directly behind Jonathon and had front class seats to the show.

Quinn, somehow even quicker than Rachel, was up immediately at the bell. She did not leave, though, instead sidling up to Jonathon and introducing herself. Rachel tried to ignore it at first, telling herself she was better off not listening, but found herself eavesdropping anyways.

She heard a simpering sweet tone, though she couldn't make out the exact words over the sounds of rushing students, eager to dilly-dawdle in the hallway. She imagined Quinn was making a claim, once again striking out to show not only hurt the younger girl but also show how great she was by attracting and seducing the boy she had a crush on.

This situation wasn't attractive by any means, but, secure in the knowledge that Quinn was quite homosexual, even if she was deep in the closet, Rachel was secure that nothing major would happen. She was equally sure she, even if she could work up the nerve to talk to him, didn't have much of a chance, so it's not like Quinn was stealing him away. But, as the students managed to escape the classroom and the noise died down, Rachel learned that she had once again under estimated Quinn's malicious side.

"…just be careful," Rachel finally made out, Quinn's voice still pleasant and a concerned expression on her face, "she's definitely a bit of a stalker. I saw her sneaking out of the boys' locker room right around the time wrestling practice ended the other day, and, despite what we all know she's packing, she definitely wasn't changing in there. I can tell you, I sit next to her and her notebook is filled with drawings of you and lists planning the future." Jonathon was staring at Quinn with a horrified look on his face.

Rachel wanted to die. This was so much worse than what she thought Quinn was doing. It was one thing to make fun of her for a harmless little crush, but this was just disgusting. Yes, she had drawn hearts around his name in her notebook and watched him sing once, in a classroom after she had been sent by a teacher to get him, but she wasn't a stalker.

"Good luck," Quinn advised, giving the boy a small pat on the back as she went to leave, "And remember to check under your bed at night." The girl left wearing a wicked smile, not looking back at the mess she made and leaving the two of them alone in the room, other than the ineffectual teacher.

Jonathon, unable to help himself, turned to her wearing an expression of disgust and fear. Who knows what Quinn had been saying before it was quiet enough for Rachel to overhear. Seeing her watching with her own expression of horror, he swallowed nervously and made a desperate sprint for the door.

"Wait," she called, making a move towards him, but he didn't stop.

"Leave me alone," he called over his shoulder, his squeaky, nervous voice nothing like the rich baritone she had heard before, and she stopped, devastated. This hurt.

It was a silly crush, she told herself. She had never spoken to him. She probably never would have. It didn't matter. It didn't matter.

Why did it matter?

It made no sense at all that it hurt so much. Part of it was that the person she had been crushing on, dying to talk to, now thought she was a freak who was stalking him – and she knew this wouldn't help her still flailing social status – but that Quinn would sink to this. She wanted to punch something, maybe kick and scream.

Instead, she plastered a smile on her face, making sure that it reached her eyes, and walked into the hallway with a jaunty skip in her step. She felt Quinn's eyes, trying to stay hidden behind a locker, almost immediately. She ignore the burn of her gaze.

Just like she ignored the pain.

She went to her next period class and paid perfect attention. She grinned brightly at the teacher and put even more effort into answering the questions correctly and creating perfect notes.

And when she was Slushied almost immediately after she left that class, she didn't let it faze her, making her way to the bathroom and changing in record time.

She ignored the feel of Quinn's eyes, cold and harsh, following her for the rest of the day. She ignored the new rise of whispers already spreading fresh rumors. She ignored the way Mr. Ryerson disregarded her, the best singer in the club, to focus instead on the wooden boy, tall and good-looking but lacking anything resembling talent.

Eventually she made it home and stopped ignoring the pain that was clawing at her chest. She collapsed on her bed sobbing, wishing there was someone home to talk to. But she had no one.

She let the tears run dry, knowing from experience that it was better to let it all out, even if it did leave her a little hoarse. Once she had calmed down a little, she fetched herself a large glass of water a gulped it down, letting the small action sooth her.

She distracted herself for a little while, focusing her anger and misery on her homework and, when that failed, her plans to get rid of Ryerson. He was, after all, horrible at his job and holding her talent back and she needed somewhere to channel her frustration.

And then, she sang.

Feeling lonely, took out the camera her dads had allowed her to get as a birthday present during the holiday season and set everything up. She had been planning this for a while and now she had the perfect cocktail of emotions to truly give the song depth.

She took a deep breath and flicked the camera on. Once in position , she beginning singing the familiar words.

_On my own__  
__Pretending he's beside me__  
__All alone__  
__I walk with him till morning__  
__Without him__  
__I feel his arms around me__  
__And when I lose my way I close my eyes__  
__And he has found me_

After some slight editing to prevent internet pedophiles from finding her from the everyday objects situated around her room, she posted it. Twice. Once on her MySpace account, a little dated but there for family and (nonexistent) friends to see and, again, on her YouTube account, created with no affiliation to Rachel Berry. Obviously people could recognize her if she became YouTube famous, but this account was basically anonymous, even made with a new email account. She figured it would be for the best to have some unbiased opinions.

The views on YouTube grew, if slowly, and the comments were basically nice and well-meaning. There were a few people complaining just to make noise but, unfortunately, no honest critiques. Still, it was flattering that people were watching her sing and enjoying it.

Her MySpace account, on the other hand, stagnated. For a while, there were no hits as nobody checked in. She wasn't surprised, what with her reputation and lack of friends, not to mention it was her first video. And then, finally, a hit and a comment.

**If I were parents, I would sell you back.**

Of course it was an insults. If Rachel recalled correctly, and based on the picture, Sky Splits was, of course, Quinn.

She huffed, displeased with this turn of events. Displeased with Quinn in general.

Whatever. She was done. If Quinn wanted to single her out and do her best to make her life miserable, then fine. But Rachel was done trying to be compassionate to her struggle. She would not waste any more time pondering on the other girl. She was done.

Of course she wouldn't spill the other girl's secret, or ignore that it existed – knowledge was power after all – but she would no longer allow the secret to affect her actions. Yes, Quinn was facing a life changing occurrence that was especially earth shattering because of her family life and ideals, but that was no excuse for her actions.

She was done.

She wasn't done.

This was ridiculous. She got through the rest of tenth grade fine. She ignored the other girl as much as possible – and it was really hard with some of the things she would say – and she tried to get through school with everyone thinking she was some transsexual, stalking loudmouth with a propensity for ugly clothes. She was even to survive Jonathon looking terrified and running away every time he saw her.

He even transferred English classes for goodness sake.

She vowed that the next time she liked somebody, she wouldn't stand around and hope things happened. She would go all out, plot and plan and act to get what she wanted. She was the one, after all, who had managed, just in time for the summer, to get Mr. Ryerson relieved of his duties. She could do anything she set her mind to. She definitely wouldn't let Quinn Fabray ruin things for her.

So when she heard Finn Hudson – tall, good-looking, a little dopey, charismatic, and a voice full of potential – begin singing _Grease_, she knew she was going to get him, despite their social standing differences.

Despite the fact that he was one of the boys who had thrown things at her from their cars.

Live and let live, after all. He honestly seemed like one of the nicer people on the football team anyways, even if he was sort of their leader. She knew enough about Noah and high school dynamics that Finn was probably less in charge of everything than even he thought.

The two of them were standing in line at Carmel High School's concession stand, preparing to watch their invitational, and Rachel could see this, despite that they were kind of spying on their opposition, as being date material. It was like a group date! People did those, right?

That is not to say she was being delusional. She knew it was nothing of the sort, but she could see it being one in the future. She had the greatest respect for Vocal Adrenaline and was a huge fan of some of the students, so this wasn't her first show.

She could see the two of them in the future, possibly still in a group, probably alone and being romantic. They would have had dinner before hand and were settled down ready to watch when it is announced that Vocal Adrenaline soloists Andrea Cohen and Jesse St. James have developed an unfortunate case of mono and are unable to perform. Knowing the show must go on, Rachel and Finn would volunteer to fill in and end up getting a standing ovation as the entire audience realizes their talent! Or something like that.

She turns to the taller boy.

"You're very talented," she says matter-of-factly, feeling this is the perfect place to start subtly bringing attention to their undeniable chemistry.

"Really?" he asks, surprised but definitely pleased as a dopey grin crosses his face.

"Yeah," she assures, fumbling a little for her words. Honestly, she is a little shocked that he's being so nice to her, "I would know, I'm very talented too." She doesn't look at him for a moment, preparing herself for the subtle subject change that will lead them to eventual Broadway marriage.

"I think the rest of the team expects us to become an item," she brings up, finally looking at him but ignoring the awkward expression he's wearing, "You the hot male lead and me the stunning, young ingénue that everyone roots for." She looks away, keeping her smile in place even as she worries over his response.

"Well, I have a girlfriend," he finally says stiltedly, keeping his eyes forward.

"Really," she replies, disappointed. She tries to keep her nonchalance, feigning curiosity as she asks, "Who?"

"Quinn Fabray."

Rachel's reaction is immediate. No longer is she feigning polite curiosity or proposing what their teammates thoughts might, hypothetically, be. She may not know all that many people in their school, she is a little self-absorbed at times, and may have thought Finn was just a dumb jock a week ago, but she knows who Quinn is. And, for the life of her, she does not understand how this is happening.

She turns to Finn, her face showing her surprise and dismay.

"Cheerleader Quinn Fabray? The president of the celibacy club?" How exactly is this happening? Since when did Quinn start dating boys? She knows it is stupid, Quinn can do whatever she wants, but Rachel couldn't help wondering what this meant.

This was a joke. Quinn Fabray, the person who made her life miserable because of her repressed fixation was finally dating boys, years after her friends had started, to date the newfound love of her life.

Okay, that was a little dramatic, even for her, but still.

"We're almost four months now. She's cool," the boy continued, a far off look in his eyes. "Mmmm, wonder if they have Sour Patch Kids."

As they purchased their concessions, and they did have sour patch kids, Rachel pondered over this new turn of events.

Since about half-way through the seventh grade, Rachel had been positive that Quinn was not only 100% homosexual – unlike Santana and Brittany who she pegged as either bisexual or just in love (though she could always be wrong; she didn't know them that well). She also knew that the girl had feelings of some kind for her.

She refused to spend too much time wondering about the depth and nature of these feelings, though she did have a number of outlandish daydreams on their existence when she was younger and in whimsical moods.

She knew that, at the very least, there were sexual feelings involved, and that was where the trouble started. All of the aggression and anger at Rachel, or at least most of it, radiated from Quinn's deeply repressed feelings searching for an outlet. She doubted that there were any feelings deeper than that, though, because the two had never interacted socially and, the one time they had, Quinn basically ignored her and then kissed her. And freaked out.

For a moment, she contemplated the idea that maybe Quinn was bisexual, that she had felt things for her, and that did freak her out, but she also felt things for guys. Then she threw the thought out.

Santana Lopez and Brittany…and Brittany had boyfriends by the middle of the eighth grade, despite their own sexual shenanigans with each other, and most of the other cheerleaders and other popular girls soon followed suit. Except for Quinn. Rachel knew that it probably looked bad. Quinn was the most popular, she should have, not just a boyfriend, but an upperclassman who thinks the world of her and walks her to class. But she didn't.

In fact, Quinn expressed zero interest in the opposite sex. If people had been looking closely, and they never did, they would have seen what Rachel saw. They way, 80% of the time, if Quinn is staring, it's at Rachel. The way her gaze is constantly looked on female parts they shouldn't be. Quinn is not exactly subtle.

She, possibly at her parents' behest, created and headed Christ Crusaders and the Celibacy Club and so most people figured that she was married to her religion. At the same time, she really didn't practice what the preachers preached, so what was the point.

But apparently Quinn had finally figured that not having a boyfriend was weird for the most popular girl in school. Four months ago, in fact, which would have been right around the end of last year. Right around the time Rachel got her first crush and Quinn ruined it. That made a depressing amount of sense.

Even choosing Finn made sense. He was a little slow, true, but he was the most popular, from Rachel's understanding, of the boys in their year. He was also a nice guy who hadn't really had many girlfriends and was, most likely, in experienced. All in all, he wasn't the type to push.

Well, Rachel would not let that stop her. The fact was, despite attempts so long ago, Quinn was not her friend. Quinn was not her anything. The only thing Quinn was, starting now, was the competition.

It would be different if Finn and Quinn were some happy couple, bringing out the best in each other and loving every minute of it, but Rachel knew the truth. Finn might love being with Quinn, and, despite their past, Rachel could see why, but she doubted the boy was in love with her. She would be doing him a favor. It would be better for them to break up now, and with another prospective relationship prepared for him to soothe any pain, than for him to legitimately fall in love with a girl who would never return it.

And Quinn could easily find another beard/distraction. Boys would fall at her feet for obvious reasons, and Quinn would be able to put off confronting her sexuality even longer. Maybe she would even be able to figure herself out, after all, it hadn't been Finn she had been leering at the Lima Community Pool those almost three out of those four months. Which Rachel could have done without.

Not that the leering was really a problem. She had grown used to it and even finds it a little flattering now. Really, though, it's things like Quinn and Santana (and Brittany) sneaking in to steal and run off with her swim top, among other humiliating tricks, that she minds. She doesn't even understand why they were at the public pool because Rachel has it on good authority that Santana has her own pool.

At least Rachel would end up with her leading man. Quinn might even, on seeing Rachel happily in a relationship and gaining popularity through their very successful club and her plethora of perfect solos and loving duets, might even move on with her life and find a new person to fixate on.

Everything would work out perfectly.

Things did not work out perfectly.

**A/N: Alright, sorry about the long wait. This chapter was hard to write and didn't turn out all that great because it had to get us to the pilot. I started them in seventh grade and the pilot is in tenth, so this chapter was basically filler to bring us to present day.**

**Things get better after this though.**

**It should, if everything goes to plan, follow bits, Rachel and Quinn pertinent bits anyways, up to around Prom Queen and end in New York.**

**The next bit, though, is a brief Quinn interlude, so we can enjoy that.**

**By the way, Jonathon, Rachel's non-canon first crush, was basically just me following her typical type. Attractive, dark-haired, somewhat dim, and a good voice.**

**I am going to write, though, more of my accidental dating fic, due to a surprising amount of people liking it, ** **though I am debating if it will be in Rachel's perspective, Quinn's perspective again, or two more parts with the first being a conclusion with Quinn's POV and then an epilogue that shows what Rachel was thinking the whole time.**

**Thanks again for all the reviews.**


	7. Greener Grasses A Quinn Interlude

**A/N: Alright, so this short little interlude ended up massive and rewritten multiple times and I'm still not sure how happy I am with it. But I couldn't get it any better, and I did hit a nice groove near the end. I just ended up showing almost the whole story so far from Quinn's POV.**

**And, since a lot of people are really unhappy with Quinn so far, I want you to know that this is not a justification of her actions and that most of the opinions she shows during this chapter are not shared by me.**

**Chapter 7 – Greener Grasses (The Quinn Interlude)**

Quinn just didn't get it sometimes.

She had lost. She hadn't lost to Santana or Lauren or any of those other girls, she had lost to a prank. In a way, it was a relief. She could tell herself that she would have won, have been Prom Queen, if all the students at McKinley were immature idiots. But it was Santana's running mate that won King, while her running mate was thrown out. She would never really know if she was going to win.

It didn't even really matter because popular consensus was that the school would rather laugh at Kurt Hummel than cheer for her.

Even with Rachel there, forgiving her and saying all the right things, everything was clear.

It was another year of failure.

After all, how low must she have fallen for Rachel Berry to comfort her.

It was just like last year.

Quinn had started out her sophomore year with just about everything going for her. Yes, there were the obvious things. She was the pretty, popular head cheerleader who was dating the cute quarterback. She was living the high school dream.

But she had started the year knowing that she was going places. Yeah, she was pretty. She had spent most of her life being told this and, aside from a few insecurities popping up from time to time, she was pretty assured in her looks. But she also had some of the top grades of her year. Aside from her grades, she was the captain of a National ranking cheerleading squad, president of both the Christ Crusaders and Chastity Club, put forth community service hours with Key Club, and, though it only happened later, participated in a Glee Club.

She was the epitome of being well-rounded. She even kept an art portfolio, though it was very private.

She had thought she was going to make it out of this small town and really make something of herself.

Honestly, for a long time, she had thought that she and Rachel would probably be the only two to make it out of the stupid town.

Then she screwed it all up.

One mistake, one stupid, drunken mistake, was all it took for her golden life to completely fall apart.

Her popularity and prestige was the first thing to go. Well, technically, Coach Sylvester dropped her from the Cheerios and told the entire school about her pregnancy simultaneously, but they loss of popularity was the first thing she really noticed. Soon, not only was she yanked from one of the few things this small school could offer her to really help her college resume, but the entire school was laughing at her, pointing and snickering.

Even Glee Club, the geeks and losers who made a big show about acceptance and peace, wasted no time in joking about her situation when they thought she couldn't hear, although Quinn is pretty sure Santana helped that along.

The only people who didn't make quips and jokes about her behind her back, who tried to help her, was her somewhat inept boyfriend and the girl she had tortured for years.

Along with the Cheerios, her one mistake also cost Quinn her place in Christ Crusaders and the Celibacy Club. And soon she had bills coming in that she had no money to pay for.

Her family was fairly well off, enough for her dad to buy her a brand new car for her sixteenth birthday, and she got a decent allowance each week, though it was nothing compared to Santana's. But the allowance was certainly not enough to cover the bills, even with saving up.

Her first thought had been to get a job, but, at her age, she needed a work permit that included a physical with her doctor and parental permission, neither of which was a good idea. The family doctor would end up blabbing and, well, there was no way her dad would let her get a job. For one thing, he would think she was much too busy with her extracurricular activities, but, more importantly, she shouldn't need a job. He might be okay with a summer job, if only to build character, but not anything during the school year. The neighbors would wonder why he couldn't provide and that just wouldn't do.

So she pushed Finn, whose mother would probably love the idea of him learning the value of a dollar, into getting one. She didn't want to rely on him, never wanted that, but could see no other option.

And even then, it was only when Rachel intervened that he even managed to get a job, from what she discovered much later.

And, when she lost her family, she was forced to rely on him even more. With each new challenge thrown at her, it just seemed more and more impossible to tell the truth. Her infidelity, which would have initially lost her a boyfriend, would now lose her the boyfriend, the chosen father, her place to live, and the only bit of reputation she had left.

And, when Rachel chose winning Finn over helping her, she did lose it all.

But, somehow, she managed to get everything back, aside from her dad, and pull herself back together.

You know, until she screwed it all up again. For just about the same reasons as last time. Once again, she was ending the school year without the Cheerios, without a boyfriend, and having been shown that she wasn't as popular as she thought she was.

It was like she just couldn't stop herself from making bad decision after bad decision, mistake after mistake. She can't say for certain if quitting the Cheerios was a mistake or not, goodness knows it didn't feel like one, but losing Sam definitely was.

She doesn't even know why she did it.

Fact was, the first time around, her relationship with Finn wasn't that great. He was the popular quarterback and she was the head cheerleader. He was goofy and likeable. He was loyal. At the time, she thought they just made sense together.

Everyone around her was hooking up and dating, even Rachel had shown evidence of a crush, though she quickly destroyed that little dream, and she knew it was time for her to have a boyfriend. It was weird that she didn't already have one , and Quinn definitely wasn't weird.

But she never really _felt_ for him. She liked him. Honestly, she thinks there were times when she loved him. But she never felt that intense need everyone else always talks about. Never thought about him as the best part of her day.

It wasn't his fault. He was a great guy, really, even if he could be thoughtless and dim, but he was never her world.

The thing was, she had been growing bored in their relationship early on. They had started dating at the very end of their freshman year, just before summer let out, and the summer was great. Finn would sleep in until 2 pm, and Quinn was busy training up for the Cheerios that they didn't really see each other that much and, without school, there was no drama or other people really. It was basically just public appearances mixed with the occasional date.

He was her first boyfriend, though, and she thought it would have been…different. She knew that she wouldn't have sex with him or anything, she was a good Christian girl, but she thought she would maybe want to a little.

But it was so easy to push him away when he got a little too into it.

A little too easy. Abnormally easy if you listened to Santana or Brittany.

She was afraid there was something wrong with her, really. So, at Puck's end of summer party, she drank a little too much and, as everyone else left, allowed him to bring her up to his room.

Somehow, Puck managed to get the girls at school swooning and, if the rumors were true, even some of the older women whose pools he cleaned.

She hadn't planned to kiss him or anything, but he was saying things she longed to hear and she just needed to know if it was Finn. If Finn lacked that something needed to excite her and get her heart pumping.

It wasn't Finn.

Before she knew it, they were kissing and touching, and she still didn't feel anything. Between the alcohol clogging up her brain and the panic that was slowly numbing her good sense, she soon found herself giving Puck more and more liberties, hoping each new sensation would start to feel good.

But it didn't.

She woke up the next morning with a hangover and his naked body on top of her, suffocating her. Or maybe, what was really suffocating her, was the rush of memories and implications of the night before.

She was out the door before he ever woke up.

Puck wasn't a moron, though. He never mentioned it again until the pregnancy.

So, yeah, she knew exactly why she slept with Puck. And she knew why she lied about it.

After her mistake, she knew it wasn't Finn. Knew it was her. But he didn't push for more and needed a boyfriend. She thought, if she stayed with him, eventually it would all work itself out. And once Rachel started going after him, she could only hold on tighter and tighter, until she was crushing him. Until he didn't want to be with her anymore. Until the only reason he was with her was the baby he thought was his.

But kissing Finn…that was still a mystery. The fact was, she was happier with Sam. She still didn't get that tingle of nerves and anticipation with each kiss that others talked about, but he was such a great guy. He listened when she talked and comforted her when she needed it and made stupid jokes that still managed to get her to laugh.

He may have been on the football team and a bit image obsessed, but he was also a big dork. And he really didn't care who knew it. He was unashamed of himself, every bit of himself, and it was refreshing.

But Finn had broke up with her, rightfully, because of her deceit and infidelity. The whole pregnancy was a blur of anger and mistakes and despair that she really tries her best to not think about. But sometimes she can't help it. Can't help but huddle up in her blankets in the middle of the night and think of Beth.

Finn wanted her again. After everything, all the lies, it was more than a second chance. It was forgiveness. It was like going back in time to before she screwed everything up. So she kissed him. She didn't really feel much from the kiss, despite what she may have said, but it was familiar. Finn was a bridge she had thought she had long since burned and the idea that he was willing to not just take her back, but chase after her…

It had happened so quickly, and, before she knew it, she was once again lying to her boyfriend about infidelity. And, once again, that boyfriend found out and dumped her, even though she was sorry and just wanted to move on.

But Sam was such a great guy. They were friends again, even as she dated Finn, the only one who wanted her.

Until he didn't. Even after he chased after her and got her to cheat on Sam, making her lose Sam, he still broke up with her again.

And she hadn't done anything wrong this time, except that she wasn't Rachel.

It was so backwards. People like Finn do not break up with people like her for people like Rachel.

Things would be so much easier if she really didn't feel, like Finn said, but she did. All the time.

It was so hard sometimes, dealing with all the feelings she had actually. Especially since most of her feelings were not things she should be feeling.

She was a Fabray. She was a Fabray and that meant there were certain things she was supposed to be and certain things she could never be.

When she was younger, before she moved to Lima and her sister was still at home, her dad made it clear that there was a mold she was supposed to follow.

Little girls wore the pretty dresses and put cute ribbons in their long hair. They played inside with dolls and Barbie dolls. They were quiet and obedient and listened to their fathers. Only dirty tomboys ran around outside in jeans and t-shirts with short hair, jumping in the mud and disobeying their parents.

At least that's what she was told.

Her interests were decided for her. Her clothes picked out, her haircut predetermined. All she had to do was follow the rules and be a good daughter. Listen to the right music and wear the right clothes. Get good grades and join the right activities. Go to Church every Sunday and all the religious days, go to confession and reconciliation, listen and live according to the words of The Father, according to her father.

Show everyone what a perfect daughter her dad raised.

Don't get it wrong, though. When she was younger, Quinn adored her dad. He was everything to her, and the fear of disappointing him was more powerful than any punishment he would have been able to think of. She loved him so much and just wanted to please him.

She knew that he had wanted a son, was disappointed that he had got another daughter instead, and done everything in her power to be the perfect daughter. But it was hard. Her sister had already been the perfect daughter without even trying, and Quinn had to try. A lot. She was always making mistakes, getting messy and being loud and wanting the wrong things.

It would have been easier if she had been that son he wanted.

But eventually, she learned how to hide all the wrong parts of her, work around them to be the acceptable daughter.

But never perfect. Not really.

But pretty close.

She would never be the dainty housewife her sister already was, quiet and demure, but she still wanted to make her dad proud.

She needed to be active, so she joined cheerleading and dance, activities that were rigorous but still socially acceptable. She was curious and full of opinions, so she listened and learned, but kept most of her opinions to herself. She did not let people walk all over her or become a slut, but still managed to become the most popular person around.

But she hid so much of herself. It was okay, though, because she figured that was what most people did. Hid the wrong parts and manufacture the rest.

That was why, and she would never admit this to anyone, the first time she saw Rachel Berry, she found her so interesting. Because, unlike everyone around her, she did not hide and fake her way to being socially acceptable.

In truth, Rachel Berry was everything her father found unacceptable.

Over the years, Quinn will think of and call Rachel a number of unflattering, and sometimes cruel, names, but, from the first moment Quinn saw her, she was Rachel. In Quinn's head, she will always be Rachel.

Rachel was a Jewish girl raised by two gay dads, a lawyer and a doctor if Quinn remembered correctly. More than that though, Rachel was loud and opinionated, full of ideas that differed greatly from what the Fabrays believed. Rachel wore little make-up, though she had gotten better recently, and lacked any sort of fashion sense. The girl had big frivolous plans for her future, plans that relied only on Rachel and her dreams.

If her father ever met Rachel Berry, he would hate everything she was.

Quinn maybe thought she might be a little amazing. At first.

Quinn had big plan for McKinley. She was finally the person she wanted to be, the person her father wanted her to be, and everything was set to be perfect.

And then she noticed Rachel. It was the first day of school, though she thinks Rachel didn't notice her until much later, and Quinn was caught at first sight.

It wasn't her fault though, Rachel looked like she had dressed in the dark. In a goodwill. It was ridiculous. It was only later that she heard the whispers in the gossip as people slowly learned about Rachel's less than conventional family.

The two of them, though, shared a number of classes that year, so it was only natural that they'd notice each other. They ended up in Math, Gym, Art, and History together and they shared a lunch, which was more classes than she shared with Santana or Brittany, the first friends she made at McKinley.

And she just seemed incapable of not watching the other girl. It still wasn't her fault. Between the clothes and the attitude, Rachel was practically screaming for attention.

At first, she watched in confusion or for a cheap laugh, but, as she found herself paying more and more attention to the other girl, this slowly shifted.

She liked the things Rachel would say, brimming with confidence that Quinn wasn't allowed to possess. She learned Rachel's dreams quickly, the other girl didn't shut up about them, and soon she was in awe of the other girl.

She really was everything Quinn could never be.

And Quinn couldn't help but admire the drive and ambition; the quirks that she didn't even try to hide or act ashamed of. Quinn couldn't help but admire Rachel.

Sometimes she thought about actually talking to her, but could never build up the nerve.

Even if the other people at the school couldn't see it, Rachel was smart and brave and one of a kind. Rachel was going places and, at the time, Quinn didn't think she was. Quinn figured that if she talked to Rachel for even five minutes, Rachel would discover that Quinn was just another pretty face, boring and shallow and not going anywhere.

So she kept her distance, watching the girl rant and rave with amusement from across the room. But, eventually, Rachel noticed her back.

Quinn had found that Rachel was especially fun to watch in gym class. Rachel put her all into everything she did, another reason Quinn admired her, and, in gym class, this created quite the sight. It was one thing to watch Rachel diligently listen in class or concentrate hard on a test, but it was another thing entirely to watch her prance around in gym clothes, running and jumping around like she had one too many coffees that morning.

And one day, in gym class, she must have been a little obvious in her completely platonic interest, because Rachel notice. Quinn watched the other girl play tennis against Santana, and lose, mouth open a little at the energy and movements on display. When Rachel turned and waved, Quinn couldn't help but wave back.

And she continued watching. But now, instead of just a random spectator, Rachel would glance back and give her a smile or a wave. Soon it was like a secret communication between the two, an agreement to never speak, but constantly interact.

It was almost like a friendship.

But then Rachel spoke to her.

It was everything she knew it would be. In short, a disaster. It would be one thing if she had time to prepare (or run and hide), but Rachel blindsided her. It was something she would one day become accustomed to.

She had been talking with Santana, she couldn't remember what about, when Rachel came over and unleashed a large amount of words very, very quickly.

Quinn froze. Her mind sluggishly tried to catch what the other girl was saying, but managed to let everything slip by except that Rachel called Quinn's stares adoring and thought about them in a film together. Or something.

She felt the blood rush to her face and tried to say something, anything. Something that would help her appear less like a stalker would be great, especially if it was a little elegant.

But her voice caught in her throat and the only noise that escaped was some mix between a dog barking and a frog croaking.

Santana looked at her as if she was a moron (and she totally was a moron), but Rachel just about had a heart attack. Apparently, the idea of someone being unable to talk was so foreign to the other girl, that she thought Quinn was dying or something. It would have been amusing if not for the fact that Rachel got really close to her.

Like, touching her close.

It was…weird. They were suddenly touching and breathing the same air and everything just felt really warm and close. Quinn jerked away, not even noticing that she bumped into Brittany.

Quinn doesn't really understand completely what happened next. All she knows is that one moment Rachel is right there, everywhere, and her heart is pounding so loud, it seems like all she can hear, and then there is space and air and breathing.

Quinn's staring at the floor – not at Rachel, not at Rachel – clenching her fist tightly as she tries to settle her racing heart. She knows Santana is talking, harshly, and knows she should step in. But she doesn't.

She just stares at the floor, wishing it would swallow her up.

Rachel stomps off eventually. Later, Santana decides to test what probably appears to be an opening to become the main HBIC and confronts her.

"Seriously, Fabray, what is your defect?" Santana asks as they hang out in her living room. Sometimes, they go to Brittany's house, but the other girl has four younger siblings always running around, so it tends to be a last resort. Santana and Brittany quickly learned that Quinn's house isn't an option. Santana's parents, though, are out of the house more often than not, leaving Santana alone.

Quinn chooses to, once again, take the coward's option and feign ignorance.

"Okay, one: I have no idea what you're talking," she starts, putting her best face forward, "and two: watch your tone. Nobody appreciates it."

"I do," Brittany interjects from where she's playing with the stash of stuffed animals she keeps at Santana's house, "Her tone's really hot." Quinn and Santana both wear matching expressions for a moment as they figure that one out, but quickly brush it off, though Santana looks decidedly flattered.

"Don'ts even try lying to me, chicka, I knows what's up," Santana scoffs. Quinn rolls her eyes at the girl, annoyed with the gangster Latina lingo Santana has been trying out lately. "Don'ts roll your eyes at me."

"Seriously. Then don't act like you're some poor ghetto girl, Miss Country Club Gold Member," Quinn snaps back, grateful she has some kind of power possession and that they're moving away from Rachel. Santana looks indignant, popping off the couch.

"Oh no you did not!" she shrieks, "I have mad street cred."

"Please," Quinn retorts, "The only "cred" you have is your doctor daddy's credit card."

The two of them are no longer lounging around the room, instead standing face to face. Looking over Santana, whose anger is obvious, she kind of feels that familiar tingle. It's the same one she feels when she watches Rachel sometimes, though different and not as intense. Pleasant but foreign, like a light buzzing of electricity jumping over her skin. When Rachel was around, it was enough to give her goose bumps.

Now, she just smirked.

"Santana?" Brittany asked, getting the other girl's attention immediately and pulling her eyes away from Quinn, "Why are you letting Quinn distract you? I thought you were talking about Rachel?"

Santana blinked, jerking her head back to Quinn, just in time to see her face fall in dismay. Santana couldn't contain a bark of laughter.

"Damn," she laughed, ignoring the light flinch from Quinn, "Good catch Britt. So fess up Quinnie. What is the deal with you and Berry. I mean, obviously, anyone with eyes can see you eyeing her up across the room, which – ew, but what's with the freeze up. You choke on your own drool. And, once again, ew!"

For the second time that day, Quinn felt her face burn and her heart race. She took a step back, physically distancing herself from the words as a wave of panic and dismay raced through her. That wasn't what this was. It wasn't! She wasn't like that. Santana was wrong. And crazy! And the second Quinn could get her tongue to start working again, she'd let her know just how wrong and crazy she was!

"Gack!" was all she could manage.

"Is Quinn choking on drool again?" Brittany asked, peering closely at the other girl. Then she gasps, standing up and looking around. "Did Charity follow me here? And steal Quinn's tongue? She's just a baby! She doesn't know better!"

Santana chuckle, turning to give Brittany a hug, and it's enough to let Quinn gain some composure.

"That's not it," she shouts, grabbing back the attention she mostly doesn't want. But she has to make them understand. "I don't…I'm not like that. I just…" Her hands clench and she looks to the floor as her brows furrow in frustration. She just can't seem to articulate what she's trying to say. Her breathing is harsh as she tries to collect her thoughts.

"I'm not like that. I'm not. I just like – I mean, I don't like, but she's different." Quinn looks back up, feeling pathetic and defensive, and is not pleased at what she sees. Santana is looking at her with brows raised, a picture of nonchalant disbelief with a dash of bitchiness, while Brittany's head is cocked in confusion. Quinn changes her approach.

"She's different. And weird. Her clothes are crazy and she's always making weird faces and saying strange things and…" Quinn looks down, "and freaking everybody out. I find it amusing. Pretty soon she'll be all the way at the bottom, and I won't be the only one watching and …laughing."

It's a lie. Well, a twisting of the truth. Because she does think Rachel's wardrobe is bizarre and speaks weird ideas in a weird manner. She does find Rachel amusing. But none of it is bad in her eyes, even if she does have a sinking feeling that her guess on Rachel's future is probably true.

Maybe it is her somewhat obvious hesitance or the fact that she didn't really explain the gym incidence, but the sneer on Santana's face shows that she obviously doesn't believe Quinn. And Quinn obviously can't get her to see that there is nothing weird about…this.

But Santana lets it go, turning away from Quinn with the sneer still in place. Quinn leaves soon after, still troubled.

And her troubled feeling continue as she returns to school to find Rachel no longer even making eye contact. But that doesn't stop Quinn from thinking about her. She can sometimes push Rachel out of her mind, focusing on training for the cheerleaders or paying attention to the teachers, but sometimes, usually when Rachel is close by, she just can't help herself.

She finds herself constantly choosing seats near the other girl. And listening when she would answer the teacher. And glaring when people snickered at the other girl.

It's even worse in Art, though, which was basically just time to sit around near Rachel and think. Well, that and trying to ignore annoying tools trying to flirt with her.

She likes art, a lot more than she ever thought she would. She likes creating something from basically nothing, bending and pushing the world to her will. She also likes watching Rachel try create things in art. It's hilarious because it is one thing the other girl is apparently not good at.

But Quinn was, at least according to their teacher. Like when they began working on clay.

Adorable was the only word that came to mind when she saw Rachel getting frustrated in her attempt to make a snake…or something. The girl was pouting and sighing and glaring at the clay with squinted eyes. It was like watching a tiny puppy try and fail to climb up a sofa.

Watching Rachel, Quinn couldn't was rounding out the clay, pinching and pushing until she had matched the mixture of exasperation and frustration Rachel was wearing. It wasn't even really her. There was only the hint of hair at the top and the nose was all wrong, and it wasn't even a fully formed face. Really. It was just a face. But if it didn't look like it was going to break into a pout any moment now, Quinn would eat her nonexistent hat. Then the stupid teacher ruined it. Brought attention to it.

When it was just her and the piece, it was fine. But when Mr. Robin Williams Wannabe came over, she felt that familiar flash of panic and guilt, like she was doing something wrong. So she blustered and fumbled with the clay as he droned on, swallowing nervously as she saw Rachel glancing over curiously. Which was…interesting.

She made sure to smash the clay up before it joined the pile.

Before Quinn knew it, almost all her works in Art class centered around Rachel. It would be easier if the teacher gave more direction and told them what to draw, but he was always so free spirited about everything, telling them to draw whatever was on their minds. And Rachel was always on her mind.

Soon she found herself getting her own drawing supplies. It's not that she liked drawing the best, but it was certainly the most convenient and portable medium. Least messy too. Her dad was basically okay with her taking up a hobby, as long as it didn't interfere with the important things, but he certainly wouldn't have been as okay with it if he knew it was pictures of Rachel filling up her journals and sketchpads.

It wasn't weird, though. Rachel was just…on her mind a lot and had interesting features. Classical beauties were easy to draw, but Rachel was lovely in a unique way that took skill to accurately put to paper. None of her drawings matched the original.

But even as she continued watching and drawing the other girl, she noticed the other girl was now paying her no attention.

And she found herself craving even the small moments of eye contact and little waves. So she fought for them. Which was a little out of character.

At the time, she didn't really fight for much. She just did her best, what she was supposed to do, and occasionally quarreled with Santana. But people of authority, she didn't outward go against them. And public opinion, she didn't try to prove it wrong. But for Rachel Berry's attention, she was at least willing to try.

She knew she had made an idiot of herself when Rachel tried speaking to her. She figured Rachel thought she was just a stupid, shallow blonde, like she had feared, so she set out to prove she was more than that.

So she spoke up in class and proved she had a brain. She showed her artistic side more often in art class, trying to use Rachel's apparent curiosity against her. She even made it a point to flaunt her popularity a little bit, putting that creepy Jewfro kid in his place. But nothing worked.

Eventually, getting a little desperate, she tried to show off in gym class in hopes of bringing things full circle.

She knew that even participating should get attention, since she usually sat out in protest of the teacher's incompetence and honoring her dad's wishes not to be involved in mannish sports.

Plus, sitting out gave her more of an opportunity to watch Rachel. Gym Rachel was always the best. In Math or History, it was a mixture of curiosity and amusement that had her peering over at Rachel. In Gym, she seriously couldn't help herself.

It had gotten worse lately, especially once she started craving the other girl's attention. Watching Rachel, knowing what it was like to be so close and near the other girl, had her bogy light up and jolt to attention.

Rachel, unlike Quinn and most of their gym class, actually tried. She ended up sweaty and dirty, expression intense and focused as her barely clothed body became tense and poised for action.

She would watch as the other girl jumped and bended, and her stomach would just clench uncomfortably. Her mouth would go dry and she would get goose bumps as she imagined the other girl looking at her with that intense expression. Slowly stalking over to her, sweaty, dirty, and breathing hard, with muscled tensed up.

It was agonizing. And she couldn't ever look away.

Now she wanted Rachel to be the one unable to look away.

So she did more than just participate, she kicked Santana's butt.

Unfortunately, she also put Santana in a foul mood, which, of course, she took out on Rachel.

In the locker room.

Quinn had a weird relationship with the locker room.

She tended to not ever look at anyone else in the locker room. She didn't like the fact that everyone could see her. Good girls are supposed to be modest and pure and not strip in front of their classmates. But she's not going to be the loser that changes in the bathroom either.

She just stares straight at her locker and changes as quickly as possible, despite the mixture of curiosity and nerves that tries to incite her into using her peripheries to…scope out the competition.

Her attention, though, is pulled away from staring at her locker when Santana brings the full bitch out at Rachel…whose not wearing a shirt.

Rachel's not wearing a shirt.

Quinn swallows thickly and pulls her eyes away, taking a deep breath. She listens to bitch and sneer and does her best to ignore it. Rachel didn't look at her at all, the entire time she was on the field. She obviously doesn't want Quinn's attention.

But she can't help the rush of feelings to step in. She ignores it, grabbing her bag and walking away from the confrontation where she's not in anyone's sight.

From her little hiding place, she watches the incident, the way Santana has Rachel's full attention. Her gaze doesn't shift away from Santana once. And when it's over, Rachel watches as Santana walks away.

It's infuriating.

Quinn waits around after everyone leaves as Rachel finishes changing and getting ready, but the other girl doesn't notice. She can't really believe it, but she's angry at the other girl. Rachel can just ignore Quinn so easily when Quinn has never been mean to her. Considering their comparative social statuses, Quinn has been downright fantastic to Rachel. Yet it's Santana who is apparently worthy enough for the attention, who treats Rachel like crap. And Rachel practically asks for it.

Her attention is pulled back to the girl as Rachel begins singing lyrics to some sing Quinn has never heard of.

She sounds fantastic. Quinn watches the girl finish up and leave the room and Quinn lets out a shaky breath. What an exhausting gym class. She follows the other girl out, mind a flurry of activity.

She wasn't really proud of what happened next, not really, but she wasn't all that ashamed of it. Rachel was being absurd. And stupid. Quinn put so much energy into trying to get the other girl's attention and the fact that she refused to so much as look at her, much less smile, was making her unbelievably pissed off.

Everyone paid attention to her. She wasn't brilliant, but she was smart. She wasn't beautiful, but she was pretty. She had freaking flare, okay! She might not become much, but she knew that she had high school. Nobody truly cared; she didn't have a best friend like Santana had Brittany, but people liked her well enough. She was on top in this school, and it was about time for Rachel to realize that.

To realize that she had power and potential and was worthwhile. To see that she was better than Santana.

She walked through the hallway like always, smirking as people moved around her, until she saw Rachel. Normally, Quinn made it a point to avoid Rachel in the hallways, keeping her distance even as she watched, but not today. People walked around her, not the other way around.

With a determined gleam in her eye, Quinn kept her pace in direction, waiting for Rachel to move around her. And, of course, Rachel had to be different again and the two ended up brushing against each other.

Before she could help herself, Quinn had uttered an apology and waited for Rachel to respond. Yeah, she really hadn't thought this through. They were going to talk again, and the last time Quinn spoke to Rachel…she couldn't speak. Great. Already, she could feel her heart pounding and her nerves flailing and-

What?

There was no conversation. There was no interaction of any sort. There wasn't even any eye contact. Rachel just mumbled an apology and scurried off without even bothering to look at her.

She had apologized. She was Quinn Fabray and she had apologized to Rachel Berry. Nobody bothered apologizing to Rachel and Quinn, who didn't apologize to anyone, had, and the other girl just didn't care.

What the hell.

Her heart kept pounding and her nerves continued to flail, but the anger flooded her and gave her control.

Without really thinking about it, she quickly marched after the other girl, smirk still in place. And then she caught up to her. With a light shove, Rachel was against the lockers.

It wasn't enough to hurt her or anything, she wasn't like that, but it would be enough get Rachel's attention. The attention she had, up to that moment, failed to get, no matter what she did.

"Watch it, Treasure Trail," she said, the same sneer her father used when talking about his co-workers fixed on her face. She had googled the terminology after Santana used it and found it dirty and disgusting. It wasn't something she would say normally, but she couldn't say Rachel.

For a moment, just a moment, she froze at the sight of the confused chocolate eyes, but then the anger showed itself. She had gotten the attention and showed Rachel just how on top she was, so she turned and made her way to the next class.

She wasn't quite sure how she felt about this. There was a sense of accomplishment. She'd succeeded. She'd won. She showed Rachel how hard it was to ignore her. But at the same time, she wasn't used to this. She shouldn't have to work so hard to get the mildest scrap of acknowledgement, especially from someone so much lower on the totem. It made her feel like she was losing control of the situation, angry and unsure.

She hated feeling like that.

So she resolved to do whatever it took to get what she wanted.

Which is why she spent all of study hall, and most of History, thinking up creative nicknames for Rachel. Treasure Trail was fine, but gross and dirty. Quinn hadn't even known what it was at first. But worst of all, it was Santana's. If she was going to make an impact, then she needed her to differentiate herself.

So, yeah, she spent to class periods thinking up names and lines to get Rachel's attention. No big deal.

Quinn finally settled on RuPaul. She figured it was perfect. She didn't know much about him…her? Quinn really didn't understand these things. All she knew was that RuPaul was a drag queen and a performer. It would be the perfect way to poke at Rachel, pull at her attention, but without being too mean. After all, RuPaul was a performer and Rachel wanted to be a performer. She even thought of some witty lines to go with it.

And it worked!

Quinn really didn't expect it to, honestly, but it did. Rachel started being nice to her again and making eye contact and holding doors open and it was pretty great.

And, of course, Santana has to ruin everything.

The thing is, Santana seems like she really couldn't care less about Rachel. Santana never seeks out or talks about the other girl. Sometimes, when Rachel would walk by or talk, Santana would make a snarky comment about her, but Santana does that for everyone. The only time Santana seems to have an abnormal problem with Rachel, it's because of Quinn.

It was gym class again. Quinn is really starting to hate gym class. Everything was going great, though. Quinn had Rachel on her team and even won points with the other girl by showing off her skills and pulling her back in the game. She even came up with a legitimate reason to have Rachel stand in front of her so she could…observe the other girl.

But Santana's being pissy again, and Quinn knows something's up the second Santana sends Brittany back to talk to Rachel.

She marches into the locker room and immediately heads over to Rachel's locker, using what they learned in the mornings Future-Cheerio training to skillfully get through the lock hanging on the door.

But it's not until Santana is pulling out her clothes that she can bring herself to act.

"What are you doing," Quinn hisses at the other girl, "You're going to get in trouble."

"Please," the other girl responds with a derisive eye roll, "As if any of the losers in here are going to tell on me."

Quinn looks around the room at the averting eyes and the few faces full of malicious smirks and knows this is true.

"I don't care," she snaps at Santana, "Stop it anyways."

Santana ignores her, walking over to the toilets still carrying Rachel's clothes. Quinn trails after her, unsure of what to do.

She doesn't want to let Santana do this, but what other option does she have. Is she really going to get into a huge fight with her "best friend" for some girl she barely knows?

"Santana," she hisses again as Santana moves to enter a stall. Quinn can't help herself. She reaches out and grabs at the other girls arm, gripping and pulling her away from the stall. "Leave her alone."

Santana reacts immediately. Dropping the clothes on the floor, she does a quick turn and shoves at Quinn, pushing her slightly against the wall.

"Listen here, Fabray, let's get one thing straight. You are not the boss of me. You are not the leader in this little show. Maybe it's easier to let people think that, and, hell, maybe people do like you better. But you cannot tell me what to do or not to do. Just because you have some gay little crush on Midget McLoudmouth, doesn't mean you can get between me and my revenge," Santana snarls at her, voice low and angry.

Quinn stops as the words wash over her. This is why she can't stand Santana. Everything is a power struggle and every word is criticism. A mean, awful, untrue criticism.

They're alone by the toilets. Nobody was brave enough to follow the show, but Quinn knows that if she or Santana raised their voices, the sound would carry. So her retort is as quiet as Santana's attack.

"Shut. Up. That's disgusting. I'm not like that. Take it back!" she snarls, using her inch height advantage to look down at the other girl.

"Really, so you trying to stop me for some random stranger. Just being a good Samaritan. Please," Santana sneers, not intimidated in the least, "And don't give me that 'we're friends' bullshit, because, as far as I can tell, you spend all your time staring at her from across the room, but do you ever actually talk. Either own up to it or get out of my way."

So she does. She moves back to the main locker room, a harsh glare keeping the other students at bay, just in time to see Brittany slink into the room. Santana ambles back in soon enough, a self-satisfied look in place.

And then Rachel enters, looking more than a little confused.

Her attention is quickly averted to her locker, another confrontation happens, where Rachel just can't seem to keep her mouth shut and lay low.

It's horrible, though, what Santana is doing, but Santana keeps one eye on her the entire time. Quinn can't help but wonder who else is watching her, who else is thinking the same thing Santana is thinking? Did anyone try and listen in on their conversation?

She laughs with the crowd, even though it feels physically painful to get the noise out.

She feels so guilty about it; she lets the other girl wear her cardigan the rest of the day.

It takes a while for her to get a thank you…and she really wishes she never got it.

Since that day, Quinn became much more aware of the eyes that were always on her, constantly judging her actions and her motives. She was happy to be popular, ecstatic even, but she wasn't quite prepared for the scrutiny from her peers.

But they were always watching. And Santana was the worst. She was the one who saw and heard everything, and, unlike their classmates, she was always ready with a sneering response.

"Hey Quinn, what'd you think of the Midget's skirt today. Did it show off her ass-ets?"

"Wow Quinn, did you skip lunch today? You're looking pretty hungr- oh, never mind, you're just perving on Treasure Trail again."

"Geeze, Quinn, did your girlfriend dress in the dark this morning? Couldn't you stop her before you slunk out her window?"

"Have you made it under her skirt yet, Quinnie? If not, I have it on good authority that you're in for a surprise, if you know what I mean."

No, Quinn didn't know what she meant. Quinn didn't get the implication at all, but she knew it was something dirty and disgusting. She was grateful that Santana kept her appalling, untrue comments between the two of them, knowing that, at this point, it would probably hurt all their reputations, but she just could not relax.

She tried so hard to stop watching the other girl, wishing that it was still the beginning of the school year.

Instead, she found herself sneakily seeking the other girl out. She didn't really plan on doing anything, but she just wanted to make sure she was okay.

So she would occasionally look for the other girl, just to check in on her and always with an excuse in hand, normally during lunch or Rachel's study hall. Which, with Rachel, was usually in the same place.

And then one day she was caught.

It wasn't her fault. Rachel was singing. She had heard her once before, in the locker room, but this was different. She was on a stage, playing the piano, and pouring her heart out and, well, she sounded incredible.

It was enchanting.

So it really wasn't her fault that she blew her cover.

She was just moving closer to better hear, better see the absolute expression on the other girl's face.

And then Rachel turned and saw her.

It was their first real conversation, as in, both sides talking to each other and making real human noises.

Although the first half of the conversation is just a long string of words from Rachel, tied together without any stops for breath.

It was certainly impressive. And a little cute. Like a puppy.

But soon, Rachel paying her compliments and Quinn was pulling out her fabulous pre-made excuses, which worked wonderfully.

Soon Rachel was talking about her future and her lofty goals, and Quinn was happy to just hear Rachel talk to her in a happy tone.

With a smile on her face. It was mesmerizing.

She found herself being drawn in, curious to what it would be like to be a little closer. Soon her arm was grazing Rachel's, like they were close friends and she was feeling that unfamiliar tingling, her senses buzzing.

But Rachel pulled away, spouting out some stuff about Santana or something, acting concerned. Quinn brushed it aside, turned the question back to Rachel. One thing she was learning was that Rachel did like talking about herself. And, honestly, Quinn thought Rachel's voice was a little bit soothing.

It was like a buzzing bee or a chirping bird, melodious, but different, and Quinn found herself tuning out, letting Rachel's words fade into gentle background noise. She could already guess what the girl was saying. And if she really listened, she might feel the need to respond honestly, tell the other girl that her life would be so much easier if she would just try a little harder to blend in, be a little more normal.

And she didn't want to say that.

So she tuned out, watching the curious expressions moving across Rachel's face. Let herself examine the face close-up, something she'd never been able to do. She saw every freckle, every line. She could finally admire the dark, soft looking hair and the light chocolate eyes without worrying who was watching.

And, when the gentle tingling feeling came back, a soft, fuzzy pulse that made her a little bit dizzy, she let it come. It felt nice, just sitting and staring and then…

There was an unbelievable warmth. It was soft and pleasant and amazing, all at once, but only for a moment.

Then it was gone. And all that was left, after a squeak and flurry of movement, was Rachel staring at her across the piano bench, one hand raised to her lips.

All at once, all these emotions and memories flooded her. She remembered every insinuation and sneer from Santana. The little quips and jabs from people talking in the hallway, about Rachel or that obviously queer boy in their grade. The harsh remarks her father would make at the dinner table. The words of the Priest during sermons.

Crap. Crap! Shit!

Nononono! This was not happening. This was wrong. Every second and moment she stood there, waiting for Rachel to react, standing in her shame, it was all wrong. She was doing everything right. This was her time to shine. This wasn't her. This wasn't her future. This wasn't her.

This was Rachel.

This was Rachel's fault.

Everything was Rachel's fault. She had created this mess. She had lured her in her and used- used her voice to get her to stay. Trying to get sympathy or pity or something. Trying to force…something. Rachel did this. Rachel was the one who caused these fee- this!

Rachel tricked her.

Rachel…Rachel…

Rachel kissed her.

"You kissed me!" she yells at the other girl.

"Wh-what?" is the only reply. Like she doesn't understand what she did. Like she doesn't care what she did. She probably doesn't even see anything wrong with it, with her two gay dads.

Her mind flits to her own dad, what his response would be, what he would say…

"You – you filthy pervert," she cries, thinking of the disappointment, the hatred, the shame. She couldn't do this. This wasn't her.

"I most certainly did not," Rachel denies, as if this wasn't all her fault. As if she didn't create this mess. As if she didn't have two dads who thought this was okay. As if she, herself, didn't think this was okay. As if she wasn't already weird and abnormal and hated by the school. As if she wanted to drag Quinn down with her.

Make Quinn just as hated…as disgusting…as shameful.

She felt like she was going to throw up. She clenched her fist, trying to reign in on her rampaging emotions. Trying to hold steady.

She took a step towards the girl, begging her in her head to take it back. Begging time to go back. Wanting to just be gone.

"You disgusting little f-freak. How dare y-you." She says, glaring at Rachel. Glaring at herself. How could she let this happen. What was wrong with her.

Rachel gets closer, denies everything again, pushes the situation back to her.

"Quinn. I didn't kiss you. You kiss-"

She couldn't let her finish. Couldn't listen to the horrible tr – lies. The gross, disgusting lies.

"No! I didn't!" she shouts, "Don't – Why would you- That's a lie!" It's a lie. It's a lie. Rachel is lying. Why can't Rachel just accept the blame? Rachel's supposed to be nice. Why is she forcing this on her? Doesn't she see? Why can't she see?

"Quinn…" Rachel says, pleading, gentle, reaching out to touch her. Part of her wondered what would happen if – NO!

No part of her wondered anything.

"Don't touch me, you freak," yelled pushing away from the other girl aggressively. Freak. Freak. That's what they were. Freaks and deviants and sinners and hellfire and damnation and –

This wasn't her.

She didn't notice how close she was to the edge of the stage. How close she was to falling.

Rachel grabbed back at her even after Quinn pushed her away, not listening to anything Quinn was saying.

"I said don't touch me. Don't – don't touch–" she shrieked, voice going hoarse. Her vision blurred and she hastily turned away, trying to rub away the tears. "Don't touch me. Don't, you can't touch me. It's wrong…this is wrong. I'm not like that. I'm not like this. This isn't me."

She can't speak anymore, doesn't even realize the last bit was nothing but harsh mumbles. She can't collect her thoughts. She can't bring herself to even look at the other girl. Looking started this.

She can only breath big harsh breaths.

Finally, she gives up, grabs at the few coherent thoughts she can manage, and decides one thing.

She needs to get out of there. Now.

She finally looks at the other girl and forces herself to really see her. Looks at the ugly sweater people are always pointing out. The dull brown hair. The giant nose. The short stature. The lack of any feminine qualities. Rachel Berry is nothing.

Rachel Berry is a disaster.

Rachel Berry is a disgusting freak. Horrible. Meaningless. A waste of time and space.

It's not working.

She grabs her bag and makes her way out of the room, thankful for every minute the other girl stays quiet.

Before she leaves the room, she turns and gives one final glance. One final warning.

"Stay away from me, you d-dyke," she orders, willing the girl to finally listen, finally stay in the background, to stay away from her. "Don't come near me again…and – and don't tell anyone."

She barely makes it to a bathroom before she vomits. Before she knows it, Brittany has appeared out of knowing, pulling at her, whispering and coddling as she pulls her to the nurse.

She's lucky Santana's not around, thankful that Brittany is.

She feels safe in Brittany's arms, takes comfort in them, and hates herself for it.

Never again.

She wonders if anyone is there for Rachel right now, like Brittany is there for her, and she hates herself even more.

She shouldn't care. She doesn't care. She doesn't!

Brittany stays with her, expression tense, worried and un-Brittany-like, until her mom comes to pick her up, but Quinn can't bring herself to talk. Can't explain.

Not to Brittany, not to her mom, and certainly not to her dad.

She stays in bed for the rest of the day, barely choking down some toast when her mom brings it to her. All she can do is think about the auditorium. The singing, the talking, the touch- the nothing. She shivers in her bed, alone with her thoughts. Nobody to talk to.

Her dad visits her when he gets home from work, worried about her. He's a good man. He's a righteous man. He's her daddy.

If he knew what happened today…

She tells him everything's fine. Tells him that she's already feeling better. That she'll be ready for school in the morning.

Smiles as he kisses her good night.

As she cries herself to sleep, she wishes she could tell him that she wasn't a huge disappointment.

The next day, she wearily gets up, groggy and upset. She had horrible dreams last night. Horrible, wonderful dreams.

She pretends she can't remember them. She does a quick morning prayer, apologizing for everything that happened the day before and asking for strength, and continues to get ready for school.

She still doesn't know exactly what to do, but it has to be something. She knows that words and tears probably won't keep Rachel away, has to do something to really prove to the girl that she _needs_ to stay away.

She sees another Cheerio-in-training walking down the hall and drinking a slushy. She sneers at the girl, knowing she'll never really make it, when a horrible, disgusting idea hits her.

Without a word, she tears the frozen beverage from the other girl's hands, making her way down the hall. She brushes past all the usual crowds, ignoring the ones that choose to follow her.

Soon enough, she comes upon Rachel in front of her locker. Rachel quickly turns away.

She can do this. She has to do this. It's the only way to make things right. The only way to be right. The only way to get it right.

"Hey Stubbles," she calls out, grateful to not hear even the tiniest amount of uncertainty in her voice. She can do this.

Rachel turns to face her and looks her right in the eye, and Quinn almost flinches at the fear.

She can do this.

Rachel glances down at the cup, and Quinn can see the moment she connects the dots and begins to brace herself.

She has to do this.

"Just a little reminder on where we both stand," she says, barely keeping her voice steady.

They maintain eye contact as she hurls the frozen drink at the other girl.

She did it.

Quinn cried herself to herself to sleep again that night.

And the night after.

She stays away from Rachel Berry for a little while after that, even though she can't help but watch the effects of her little stunt. Watches as the girl slinks even lower down the social totem.

She doesn't feel guilty about. Really.

Her relationship with Santana gets easier, and she soon learns why Santana was so quick to lash out at Quinn's behavior. She also learns how easy it is to ignore her two best friends when they shuffle off together during parties and sleepovers. If she doesn't notice, she doesn't have to react.

She gains just as much power and prestige as she always knew she could and learns how hard it is to keep.

Soon, though, she finds herself drifting back to Rachel, sitting near her and watching her, but it was okay, because she used that time to put Rachel in her place. She glared and sneered at the other girl at every possible opportunity, using her wit to think of clever new insults and methods of torture.

She didn't feel guilty about that either. Really.

Every time she started to feel the slightest amount of guilt, or worse that horrible warmth, she remembered the auditorium. The way the other girl could stand in front of her and calmly accuse her of vile things. Remembered the taste of vomit on her lips.

Eventually, she really did stop feeling any guilt about it. It became another part of her day, and Rachel never really looked all the worse for wear. Always so unaffected. Sometimes, that was the worst part of it.

That she could sneer and tease the other girl, trip her and flush her make-up down the toilet, make up rumors and draw dirty pictures, and the girl could still manage to smile politely at her. Still remain unaffected.

It became a habit. Her day wasn't complete until she had talked to the girl, called her a name, and at least tried to make her feel as bad as Quinn did.

And all of it only helped her popularity. Soon enough, she was head cheerleader and, after realizing that she needed a boy at her side to really solidify her place as high school royalty, dating the quarterback.

It was like a movie.

And then she made the second biggest mistake of her life – the first was ever associating with Rachel Berry.

She had been dating Finn all summer and things just weren't like she wanted. She hadn't expected to fall in love or anything, at least not during the summer, but she thought dating would be a little more…fun.

Finn was a great guy. She wouldn't have chosen him otherwise. But the boy was dull and boring. The first couple of dates he was sweet and nervous, but really made an effort to impress her. But once they were officially going steady, the only time he put in any effort was when he was trying to get in her pants.

And she hated that. Beyond the fact that she was a good Christian girl, therefore nobody would be getting in her pants, she just couldn't enjoy herself when they…kissed.

He certainly seemed to, but she never really felt anything. She got used to it, even grew comfortable with it, but she couldn't get those feelings everyone always talked about. She tried different things, growing desperate as the school year approached, and wondered if there was something wrong with her.

Her mind flickered to the auditorium, to the moment she felt something.

There wasn't anything wrong with her. There must have been something wrong with Finn.

She was his first real girlfriend, just like he was her first boyfriend, so she couldn't ask anyone else if it was him. But, bolstered by alcohol during Puck's Back-To-School bash, she came up with a new plan.

Personally, Quinn found Puck repulsive. To her, he was everything wrong with the male half of the human race. But according to everyone else, he was good for at least one thing.

She never meant to sleep with him. Finn had gone home early for some reason, and Quinn just needed to see if it was her. Just needed to prove it wasn't.

So she let herself be ushered away from the party, thankful for the lack of eyes.

But as he flirted with her, leaning in close and brushing against her, she still felt nothing. So she let him kiss her. Still nothing.

She started panicking, and he must have sensed her growing fear and thought it was a different kind of fear, so he gave her a wine cooler or two or three to help her calm down, not knowing how much she had already drank.

Soon she was letting his hands wander, letting him do more and more, anxious to feel a spark or a tingle or anything. She lost track of herself, so worried about what she was supposed to be feeling.

Lost track of what she was letting him do.

One mistake. One stupid mistake. She tried so hard!

But it was the one mistake that ruined everything she had worked so hard for.

And, for once, Rachel was the last thing on her mind.


End file.
